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THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 



%\)t passion of ©ur 3torD 


BY 


HIS EMINENCE 


GAETANO CARDINAL DE LAI 


Bishop of Sabina 


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TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN BY 
HIS EMINENCE 

WILLIAM CARDINAL O’CONNELL 

Archbishop of Boston 





BOSTON 

©Je JJilot J)ubUsI)tnff Companp 
MCMXXIII 





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COPYRIGHT, 1923. BY WILLIAM H. O’CONNELL 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


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TKfje JMtoersfDe 

CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A. 


MAR 26’23 


©Cl A698750 

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CONTENTS 


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Preface to the First Edition ix 

I. Topographical Description of Jerusalem 3 
II. The Last Supper 9 

Judas at the Washing of the Feet 9 

Judas at the Institution of the Eucharist 10 

III. The Last Supper 14 

In the Cenacle 14 

On the Way to Gethsemane 18 

IV. In Gethsemane 25 

The Prayer 26 

The Capture 36 

V. On Mount Sion 43 

The Progress towards the House of the 
High Priest 43 

Annas, Caiphas—The Sanhedrim 47 

A View of Jerusalem 54 

In the House of Annas 57 

The House of Caiphas 61 

Christ before Caiphas 62 

The First and Second Denials of St. Peter 63 
The First Condemnation of Christ 65 

The Third Denial of St. Peter 70 

VI. The Second Judgment of the Sanhedrim 75 


VI 


CONTENTS 


VII. The Pr^etorium 82 

i 

The Fortress Antonia and the Prseto- 
rium 85 

The First Trial by Pilate 87 

VIII. Judas . r 104 

IX. Jesus before Herod 124 

X. Once More the Pr^etorium 138 

The Confirmation of the Innocence of 
Jesus 138 

Pilate again Protests in Favor of Jesus 144 
The Flagellation 145 

The Crowning with Thoms 152 

The Ecce Homo 156 

XI. The Condemnation 176 

The Title of the Cross 184 

XII. The Journey to Calvary 187 

The Place of the Crucifixion 189 

The Third, Fourth, and Fifth Stations 194 
The Sixth Station 199 

Veronica and the Sacred Face 203 

Station the Seventh — The Second Fall 207 
The Eighth Station 208 

The Ninth Station 212 

XIII. Golgotha 214 

The Cross 216 

The Form of the Cross 218 

The Manner of Crucifixion 223 

The Sufferings of the Crucifixion 224 


CONTENTS vii 

XIV. The Crucifixion 227 

Christ Despoiled of His Garments 232 

The Elevation of the Cross 235 

XV. It is Finished 241 

Christ Speaks 245 

The Conversion of the Thief 246 

The Second Word of Christ from the 
Cross 250 

Jerusalem at the Time of Christ’s Cruci¬ 
fixion 259 

The Abandonment of Jesus 263 

The Fourth Word , 263 

The Fifth Word 266 

The Sixth and Seventh Words 267 

XVI. The Earthquake 270 

Apparition of the Dead 274 

Mysterious Voices Announcing the Death 
of Christ 276 

Appendix 283 








































































PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 


To all the Reverend Clergy of the Suburban Diocese of 
Sabina: 

These considerations on the Passion of Our Lord Jesus 
Christ, published at various times in the Diocesan Bulle¬ 
tin , I now present, collected in this small volume, to my 
dear priests, in order that it may serve them conven¬ 
iently for their spiritual advantage and for the welfare of 
the souls committed to their care. 

The Passion of Our Blessed Lord, like the great Sacra¬ 
ment of the Holy Eucharist, is an inexhaustible fountain 
of holy thoughts, of salutary meditations and of innumer¬ 
able graces. In its consideration one finds an incompar¬ 
able nourishment for every kind of virtue. 

How can anyone fail to love Our Blessed Lord, and in 
Him, also, our neighbor, when he beholds the Son of God 
in the midst of all His sufferings and sacrifices for our re¬ 
demption and salvation? St. Paul writes, He “delivered 
Himself for me,” (Galatians n, 20) and every one of us 
can repeat with the great Apostle: — Christ the Lord was 
sacrificed for my salvation; and he will naturally add 
those other words of St. Paul: — “ Who, therefore, shall 
separate us from the love of Christ? ” 

What a source of eternal hope to all of us is the thought 
that the Eternal Father spared not His Only Begotten 
Son, but gave Him for the salvation of every one of us and 
with Him gave to us every good gift! (Romans vm, 32.) 


X 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 


It is true, indeed, that the Apostles and some of His 
disciples in Jerusalem, seeing Christ in such complete ab¬ 
jection, felt their faith shaken; and yet in so many ways 
His divinity was revealed, even in His Passion, by the 
verification of the prophecies, by the palpable realization 
of those predictions which revealed the true Messias, and 
by those superhuman prodigies which accompanied the 
Passion and the Death of the Man God. Even the great 
infidel Rousseau was forced to exclaim: “If the death of 
Socrates is worthy of a philosopher, the death of Jesus 
Christ is worthy of a God.” 

To us the consideration of the Passion of Our Blessed 
Lord becomes only a more convincing argument to fortify 
our faith, not less than the great miracles that He wrought 
during His public life. As Tertullian writes: “The crown 
of glory covers His Wounds, the palm of triumph veils 
His Blood, His victory was greater than His Wounds.” 
And so as we come down from Calvary we shall strike our 
breasts and exclaim with the Roman centurion: “Truly 
this was the Son of God!” 

How many were the virtues great and noble which 
shone forth in the Passion of the Saviour! The Fathers of 
the Church called the Cross of Christ the Chair of the 
Divine Master. Prudence, fortitude, patience, obedience 
and resignation to the Divine Will; compassion for sinners 
and at the same time the severity of justice towards the 
obstinate — all these virtues shine out from the consider¬ 
ation of the Divine Passion in such a way as to fascinate 
us and confound us. j 

From the Passion the Martyrs and the Saints of old 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 


xi 


gained the wonderful courage of spirit which made them 
great even in the sight of their persecutors. In the Pas¬ 
sion of the Divine Redeemer they beheld every great 
model. From it they took their courage. They fortified 
their own human frailty to win the victory of virtue. 
From the Passion they gathered the graces which made 
them Saints. It is always Christ who conquers in His Mar¬ 
tyrs, in His disciples, in every faithful soul. He is the first 
Martyr of the New Law. 

The writings of those who have studied the Passion of 
Our Blessed Lord are innumerable. As St. Leo the Great 
says in his sermon on the Passion: “The very material for 
pious consideration, although ineffable in itself, compels 
us to speak, and no matter how much we write or speak of 
the Passion of Christ we never can say enough.” 

The present study is an historical narration of the 
events of the Divine Passion. We have taken care to har¬ 
monize the various texts of the Evangelists and we have 
arranged the succession of events in the method most con¬ 
formable to the traditions of the Fathers, with reflections 
upon the conditions and the localities where was enacted 
the Divine Tragedy. Naturally we have not omitted, as 
occasion demanded, to make some obvious and pious 
reflections. 

My beloved priests, may this modest little book be use¬ 
ful to you for the sanctification of your souls and of all the 
souls of the faithful committed to your care. I offer it, 
whatever may be its value, to the greater glory of God. 

(Signed) G. Card. De Lai, 

Bishop of Sabina . 

Rome, Feast of the Epiphany, 1921. 







His Eminence, Cardinal De Lai, 

Rome. 

Your Eminence: — 

I read your book on “The Passion” soon after receiving 
it from Your Eminence. It made immediately an unusual 
appeal. I had naturally read other books on the same 
sublime and moving subject, but your method of consid¬ 
eration was new to me and made a lasting impression. 

When, just a year ago, I left for the Conclave, I put as 
usual a few books into my valise, as good companions on a 
long journey. Among them was your precious volume. 

My return voyage happened to be in the latter part of 
Lent, so the time was opportune for a leisurely re-reading 
of “The Passion.” Each chapter developed new impres¬ 
sions of scenes that were old as Christianity. It seemed, 
in short, that I realized now more than ever before the 
value of profound and studious meditation on these won¬ 
derful scenes, w T hich sum up vitally the whole doctrine 
and work of Christ. 

We had no book just like this in English. Why should 
our faithful people here be deprived of the fruits of your 
labor? Then came the decision to translate it, if I could 
get the necessary leisure. That I have not yet found, but 





between many tasks I seized a little time, and to-day I 
finished it. 

The translation is not literal. No translation can be 
and still render the underlying spirit which is the chief 
value. I trust, however, it has interpreted that spirit — 
profound yet facile; learned yet clear; devotional yet not 
merely emotional. 

The task was not so easy as might at first appear. Dif¬ 
ferent languages represent different modes. Many ex¬ 
pressions which are perfectly graceful and natural in one 
tongue utterly lose flavor in another. No translation can 
do justice to the original text. 

In the quotations from the Bible throughout the book, 
instead of adhering literally to the Douay Version, I have 
followed Your Eminence’s Italian translation from the 
Vulgate. 

I feel that your precious book, written in Italian and 
given to me by Your Eminence over a year ago, and now 
returned to you in English dress, will serve in a small 
way to express my affection and reverence for the learned 
and able author, widen the field of your labors and bring 
to a larger congregation of the faithful the precious and 
consoling message of Your Eminence’s reflections on 
Christ’s Passion. 

Your Eminence’s humble servant, 

W. Card. O’Connell. 


Boston, January 25, 1923. 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 























































































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THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 

CHAPTER I 

TOPOGRAPHICAL DESCRIPTION OF JERUSALEM 

It will naturally be easier to follow the story of the 
Passion if one has under his eyes the topography of the 
holy places, at least in a general way. Our Blessed Lord 
on the Feast of the Palms, seeing from Mount Olivet the 
sacred city, wept over it even before entering through its 
gates. So we, before entering upon the meditations of the 
Sacred Passion, may cast our eyes over the city “which 
kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it,” and 
as we gaze we, too, shall see it through a mist of tears. 

Jerusalem is situated on the high plateau of Palestine 
about seven hundred meters above the level of the sea. It 
is surrounded by mountains in such a way as to form an 
immense quadrangle, in the midst of which rises the sa¬ 
cred city. To the north is Mount Scopus, to the east is 
Olivet, to the west is Gareb, with Calvary at its extrem¬ 
ity, and finally, to the south is the Mount of Evil Coun¬ 
cil. From Mount Scopus to the city runs a wide plain 
over three miles in length, which offers easy access to 
Jerusalem. In fact, from this side the sacred city has al¬ 
ways been attacked by her enemies. From this side the 
Romans, the Turks, and the Crusaders always began 


4 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


their assaults upon the walls of the city, that being the 
weakest and most accessible side. 

For this reason King David, in building a wall around 
the city, took care to strengthen it especially on that side. 
For the same reason the Kings Ezechias and Manasses 
constructed a second and wider wall outside the wall of 
David, and this was still standing in the time of Our 
Blessed Lord. Later still, King Agrippa, to fortify still 
more the defense of the city, added to the two walls al¬ 
ready described a third one, which included Calvary, un¬ 
til then, just outside the Holy City. Such is the exterior 
aspect of Jerusalem on its north side. 

To the east and west of the city are two chains of hills, 
separated from the holy city by two narrow, steep val¬ 
leys which meet on the south, making there a deep plain, 
beyond which is the Mount of Evil Council. As one looks 
towards the city from the south, west, and east, it ap¬ 
pears like a great castle constructed on the summit of 
high hills, inaccessible to assault from every side except 
the north. 

The valley to the west was originally called “the Val- 
v ley,” without further distinction, possibly because it is 
narrower and more precipitous than the others. Later it 
was called by the Hebrews the Valley of Ge-hinnom, from 
which is derived the Gehenna of the Bible. Beginning at 
the foot of Calvary, it descends rapidly, stretching out 
to the Mount of Evil Council. There it opens out to form 
the southern plain. On the side of the Mount of Evil 
Council is the celebrated Haceldama, the field of blood 
bought by Judas’ thirty pieces of silver. 


DESCRIPTION OF JERUSALEM 


5 


The valley to the east of Jerusalem is also narrow and 
deep. It is called the Valley of Josaphat, along the bot¬ 
tom of which runs the torrent Cedron which separates 
Jerusalem from Mount Olivet. Beyond Cedron, on 
the lower slope of Olivet, is the Garden of Gethsemane. 
There still grow very ancient olive trees which perhaps 
witnessed the Agony of Our Blessed Lord. The Garden 
is near the bottom of the valley, and one still sees there 
the traces of the ancient arch through which one passed to 
the summit of Olivet. At the foot of this mountain the 
Redeemer began His Sacred Passion. Upon its summit, 
having conquered death and the humiliation of the Cross, 
He crowned the glory of His Resurrection by His Ascen¬ 
sion into Heaven. 

Jerusalem itself is not constructed on a level surface. 
Tasso thus describes it: 

** Gerusaiem sovra due colli e posta, 

D’ impari altezza, e volt i fronte a fronte. 

Va per lo mezzo suo valle interposta, 

Che lei distingue, e l’un dall’ altro monte.’* 

This stanza of Tasso describes exactly the situation of 
the city. Two small hills parallel with the two lateral val¬ 
leys, separated from each other by a wide depression be¬ 
tween them, where the lower city was built, form the loca¬ 
tion of Jerusalem. In ancient times, between these lateral 
hills, rising out of the intermediate depression was a small 
hill, which in the time of the Machabees formed the 
acropolis, which served for a place of refuge to the Syrians 
in the time of Simon Machabee. This same Simon, after 
having dislodged them, destroyed the acropolis and lev- 


6 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


eled the small hill on which it stood, that no fortress men¬ 
acing to the city and temple might be built upon it. 

The western hill of Jerusalem is called Sion. There was 
the ancient tower of the Jebusites. After David had cap¬ 
tured this stronghold, he made it his capital city, “Civitas 
David,” and fortified it with strong walls. This is the 
highest hill of the city, reaching to about seven hundred 
and seventy meters above the level of the sea. There were 
situated the house of Annas, the high priest, the house of 
Caiphas, and also the Cenacle. 

What emotions these names create in us! In the Cen¬ 
acle Our Blessed Lord gathered His Apostles for the Last 
Supper. There, after His Resurrection, He visited His lit¬ 
tle terrified group, filling them at last with joy and love. 
There, after His Ascension, He gathered the first nucleus 
of His Church just born, and there again, after ten days, 
descended the Spirit of God in the form of fiery tongues. 
No wonder the first Christians and the pilgrims of the 
first centuries of Christianity held that place in the high¬ 
est veneration and gave it the name of Holy Sion! 

St. Epiphanius narrates that, upon the visit of Hadrian 
to Jerusalem in the year 135, the Christians possessed 
still the little church constructed on the site of the Cenacle 
where the Apostles were united in prayer after the ascent 
of Our Blessed Lord. St. Cyril, Bishop of Jerusalem, in 
his catechetical instructions, still extant, tells the faithful 
of the Holy City in his time, that Divine Providence had 
preserved the Cenacle where the Holy Spirit had de¬ 
scended upon the Apostles. The Crusaders restored this 
holy place. 


DESCRIPTION OF JERUSALEM 


7 


To-day it is in the hands of the Turks, who venerate it 
as the burial place of King David. And so these ancient 
avails, which have seen so many wonderful mysteries, 
guarded faithfully even by the infidels, still exist. No 
wonder that the Christian visiting this sacred spot is 
deeply touched by the sentiment which comes to him at 
being so near to the supernatural and the divine! 

The intermediate valley, which Josephus Flavius 
terms the “wide valley,” is called the Tyropoeon. The 
hill towards the east is Moria, probably the place where 
Abraham led his son Isaac to offer him in sacrifice to the 
Lord. This hill Moria rises gradually from the south 
towards the north, whereas Sion rises, on the contrary, 
from the north to the south. The lower part of Moria 
was called Ophel, the part of the city occupied in Our 
Lord’s time by the servants and workmen of the temple, 
who were as a rule very friendly and some of them eager 
followers of the Nazarene. 

From Ophel, mounting towards the north, there is the 
large level place of the temple. It was the ancient thresh¬ 
ing floor of Oman, where David saw the angel with his 
sword unsheathed above Jerusalem in the days of the 
great pestilence. Later Solomon erected there his great 
temple, which, rebuilt, was at the time of Our Blessed 
Lord a wonderful succession of porticoes, courtyards, 
fountains, and gardens, with rooms for the priests. 

In the midst of all these were the “Sanctum” and the 
“Sanctum Sanctorum.” The temple itself, surrounded 
on three sides by strong walls and on the east side by the 
wall of the city, was, besides being a sacred place, a 


8 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


formidable fortress. Titus, to take it, was obliged to at¬ 
tack it during many long weeks of battle. Onward to the 
north, contiguous to the temple, upon a rocky elevation, 
Herod the Great built his castle called Antonia, which 
Josephus Flavius describes as of wonderful magnificence, 
strength and luxury. 

At the time of Our Blessed Lord the Governor of Judea 
was accustomed to reside there on the occasion of the 
great feast days, at which time he came up from Ceesarea 
to Jerusalem to see that public order was preserved. 
Around about the castle Antonia were the quarters of the 
Roman cohorts, and here, therefore, happened those sad 
scenes of the trial by Pilate. 

Having thus before our eyes a general plan of the 
city and its surroundings, and thus being enabled the 
better to follow the story with precision, let us come to 
the narrative of the sad event itself. 


CHAPTER II 

THE LAST SUPPER 

On the evening of 14th Nisan, corresponding most prob¬ 
ably to our 24th of March, of the year 29, Our Blessed 
Lord came with the twelve Apostles from Bethany to 
Jerusalem and ascended Sion to the Cenacle. There 
Peter and John, directed by Jesus, had made all the 
necessary preparations for the ritual supper of the Pass- 
over, according to the prescriptions of the Jewish law. 

Judas at the Washing of the Feet 

There can be no doubt that among the Apostles who 
gathered around Our Lord in the Cenacle there was the 
traitor Judas. That the Divine Master had full cogni¬ 
zance of the wdiole plan which was passing in Judas’ brain 
is equally certain, and this, prescinding from His divine 
knowledge and also from the prediction of the betrayal, 
made more than a year before at Capharnaum, on the 
occasion of the promise of the Eucharist. 

When the paschal lamb had been eaten with all the 
solemnity of the Jewish rite, and when the psalms and the 
hymns prescribed had been recited and sung, the Divine 
Master then prepared for the institution of the New 
Pasch, of which the ancient Passover was but a figure. 
He began by washing the feet of the Apostles, thus 
described by the Apostle St. John (xm, 2 et seq .): 

“And when supper was done (the devil having now put 


10 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


into the heart of Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon, to 
betray Him), knowing that the Father had given Him all 
things into His hands and that He came from God and 
goeth to God, He riseth from supper and layeth aside His 
garments, and having taken a towel, girded Himself, 
and began to wash the feet of the disciples.” Coming 
to Peter last, the Apostle, reluctant to allow his Blessed 
Master to perform such a humble service for him, begged 
Our Lord to desist; but Christ conquered his repugnance 
with these memorable words: “If I wash thee not thou 
shalt have no part with Me.” Peter, having yielded to 
the tender invitation of Christ, allowed Him to wash his 
feet, and then Christ exclaimed: “You are clean, but not 
all.” And St. John expressly notes that Our Blessed Lord 
said this, because He knew that there was one there who 
would betray Him. It is clear from this that Judas was 
present at the washing of the feet. 

Judas at the Institution of the Eucharist 

Seated again at table, the Divine Master gave to His 
Apostles various salutary admonitions relating to the 
sublime act of humility and charity just performed by 
Him. And then St. John continues: “He was troubled in 
spirit, and He testified and said: ‘Amen, Amen, I say to 
you, one of you shall betray Me.’ ” 

Then follows the painful scene in which the Apostles 
sought to learn who should be the traitor. Peter begged 
John, who was nearest to Christ at table, to ask the Mas¬ 
ter the traitor’s name, and Christ replied: “He it is to 
whom I shall reach bread dipped.” “And when He had 


THE LAST SUPPER 


11 


dipped the bread He gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son 
of Simon. And after the morsel, Satan entered into him 
and Jesus said to him: ‘That which thou dost, do quickly .* 99 
From this narration of St. John it is clear that Judas, after 
the washing of the feet, went back to his place at the 
table, and only after he had received the dipped bread, 
“intinctum panem,” he went out to fulfill his nefarious 
plan. 

The question arises: Was Judas also present at the 
institution of the great Sacrament of the Eucharist, and 
did he dare to partake of it? St. John does not say so 
expressly, but leaves it to be supposed, because he in¬ 
dicates that after the washing of the feet Judas returned 
to his place at the table. Now it is admitted by all that 
that was the solemn moment of the divine institution of 
the great Sacrament of Love. 

Besides this, St. Luke evidently alludes to the presence 
of Judas at the Eucharist. Thus he writes: “And taking 
bread, He gave thanks, and brake and gave to them, say¬ 
ing, ‘This is My Body which is given for you. Do this 
for a commemoration of Me.’ In like manner the chalice 
also, after He had supped, saying, ‘ This is the chalice, the 
new testament in My Blood which shall be shed for you. 
But yet behold the hand of him that betrayeth Me is with 
Me on the table, and the Son of Man indeed goeth accord¬ 
ing to that which is determined, but yet woe to that man 
by whom He shall be betrayed!’” 

Our Blessed Lord, therefore, after having distributed 
the Eucharist, lamented the fact that the traitor took 
part in the Eucharist. There can, therefore, be no doubt 


12 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


that Judas was present at the institution of the Blessed 
Sacrament and that he guiltily partook of it. 

In the sermon of St. Leo the Great on the Passion we 
read the following words: “Why do you not confide in 
the goodness of Him Who did not repel you from the 
communion of His Body and did not deny you the kiss 
of peace?” In like manner St. Augustine writes: “To all 
the Apostles the Lord distributed the Sacrament of His 
Body and Blood, and among them was Judas, as St. Luke 
clearly narrates.” St. John Chrysostom and St. Thomas 
Aquinas hold similar views, and Benedict XIV quotes in 
the same sense St. Cyril of Jerusalem, St. Jerome, and 
many other doctors and theologians. 

It is true there are some to whom it is repugnant to 
admit that Our Blessed Lord would communicate Him¬ 
self to the traitor, and who strive by various means to 
sustain their point of view. But, abominable certainly as 
was the act of Judas, it cannot be concluded from that, 
that Christ impeded it. Did He not wash his feet? Did 
He not later, at the culmination of Judas’ perfidy, allow 
him to kiss Him and embrace Him? Indeed, did not Our 
Blessed Lord see then, and has He not seen throughout all 
the ages since, the horrible sacrileges and the innumerable 
outrages offered to this Sacrament? But all this did not 
serve to turn Him from His supreme act of love. 

He was the Saviour of the world, and He wished to be 
in the midst of men, no matter what humiliations, neglect, 
or offenses He foresaw. Master as He was, and Father 
of the apostolic family, He did not wish to reveal until 
the last moment the ignominy of Judas. Indeed, He 


THE LAST SUPPER 13 

wished to give even to him the most extreme proof of His 
Divine love, that He might endeavor to save him. 

But for all this the treachery of Judas cruelly wounded 
the Heart of Jesus. Indeed, He thus began to taste the 
bitterness of the chalice of His Passion. More than a 
year before at Capharnaum He grieved publicly, speaking 
to the Apostles: “Have I not chosen you twelve and one 
of you is a devil? ” And many centuries before David had 
expressed the same indignation and grief for the treachery 
he foresaw: “For if my enemy had reviled me I would 
verily have borne with it. . . but Thou ... my guide and 
my familiar, Who didst take sweetmeats together with 
me: in the house of God, we walked with consent.” But 
for all prophecy and prediction nothing availed to change 
the heart of Judas, not even the threat which he heard 
from the lips of Christ Himself: “Woe to that man by 
whom the Son of Man shall be betrayed! It were better 
for him if that man had not been born.” 

How horrible is the hardness of heart of the miserable 
man whom passion blinds and then leads to awful destruc¬ 
tion ! On the other hand, behold the sweetness, the mercy, 
and the long suffering of Christ; how He sought by every 
means, even by washing the feet of Judas, to save him 
from his own dreadful stubbornness. But before such 
obstinacy, such blindness of passion, such insane avarice 
for money, everything is useless, everything is vain. How 
terrible the lesson for all who allow themselves to be 
dominated by the passions! 

But let us now leave the traitor, who goes quickly to 
fulfill his horrible plan, and let us return for a moment to 
the Cenacle. 


CHAPTER III 
THE LAST SUPPER 
In the Cenacle 

When Judas departed from the Cenacle, it was already 
night, as St. John clearly says. It must have been, there¬ 
fore, about seven o’clock in the evening, because, towards 
the end of March, the time of the Passion, the sun sets 
about six o’clock. 

After the traitor had left the room, Christ, as if relieved 
of this incubus, began to speak to His Apostles: “Now is 
the Son of Man glorified and God is glorified in Him”; as 
if to say: “The traitor has gone forth to complete his plans, 
and beholding My suffering and death, I see in them both 
the beginning of triumph and victory. When I shall be 
lifted up above the earth, I shall draw all things to My¬ 
self.” In the same tone He continues: “If God be glorified 
in Him, so also shall God glorify Him. A little while and I 
am with you; you shall seek Me, but where I go you may 
not come. A new commandment I give unto you: to love 
one another as I have loved you. By this shall all men 
know that you are My disciples if you love one another.” 

Peter, passing over the last words of Our Blessed 
Lord, could think only of those other words in which 
Christ foreshadowed His departure from them, and he 
cried out: “Lord, whither goest Thou?” And Christ 
answered him: “Whither I go thou canst not follow Me 
now; but thou shalt follow hereafter.” Peter, in the ardor 


THE LAST SUPPER 


15 


of his love for his great Master, still insists: “Lord, why 
cannot I follow Thee now? I will lay down my life for 
Thee.” And the Master answered: “Wilt thou laydown 
thy life for Me? Amen, Amen, I say to thee, the cock 
shall not crow till thou deny Me thrice.” 

Here is the first, and, alas! presumptuous protest of 

fidelity made by Peter to His Master. It is clear from 

the text of both St. Luke and St. John that it happened in 

the Cenacle. Later on we shall see how Peter, learning 

nothing from his former presumption, began to protest 

his fidelity. And this time, as if to comfort the future 

Head of His Church, Christ calls him sweetly by his 

familiar name and says to him: “Simon, Simon, behold 

Satan has sought thee to sift thee as wheat, but I have 

prayed for thee that thy faith may not fail, and thou 

being converted shalt strengthen the faith of thy breth- 
»> 

ren. 

Well might Peter feel grateful to the Master for such 
great goodness and for this precious assurance of final 
fidelity which He gave him. But Peter was moved at the 
moment only by the impulses of his generous heart, and 
was heedless of the prophecy of his fall. He counted only 
upon his own strength and good-will; he repeated that he 
was ready to go with his Master to prison and to death. 
Christ answered again: “Before the cock crow thou shalt 
deny Me thrice.” 

Surely such words from the Divine Master produced 
profound consternation in the minds and the hearts of 
His little faithful flock. They knew their own good-will 
and their love for Him, but still it was the Master Who 


16 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


spoke these words, it was the Great Prophet, the Son of 
God, Who made this prediction of Peter’s fall, and a feel¬ 
ing of terror invaded all their hearts. 

Christ saw the depression depicted upon their counte¬ 
nances and again began to stimulate their courage: “Let 
not your heart be troubled,” He said, “have faith in 
God and have faith in Me.” He then spoke to them in a 
series of wonderful discourses which reveal His prophetic 
outlook upon the future of the Church, His promises to 
His Apostles, His threats to the selfish world, and His 
appeals to the mercy of His Father. The Apostles hung 
upon His lips as He spoke these wonderful words, and 
they whispered to each other what even His enemies have 
been compelled to say: “Never did man speak like this 
Man,” and the faith and the love of the Apostles to- 
wards Christ grew deeper and stronger than ever. At a 
certain point the Master returned again to the thought 
of His departure from them (John xiv, 27 seq.): “Let not 
your heart be troubled. You have heard what I have said 
to you. I go and I return to you. If you love Me, you 
must rejoice that I go to the Father, for the Father is 
greater than I.” (Here He speaks as Son of Man to God 
the Father.) “And now I have told you before it hap¬ 
pens so that when it does happen you will believe. I shall 
not speak much more to you because already the prince 
of this world cometh. In reality he can do nothing 
against Me, but that the world may know that I love 
the Father, and as the Father hath commanded Me, so I 
do. Arise, let us go.” This was the sign to depart from 
the Cenacle. 


THE LAST SUPPER 


17 


The prince of this world of whom Our Blessed Lord here 
speaks is the Devil and all those who are of the Devil. 
Indeed, Satan could do nothing against the Lord Who 
was innocence itself. But as Christ had come on earth to 
expiate the sins of men and to satisfy the Divine Justice, 
so He arose and went willingly to meet death, thus fulfill¬ 
ing the will of His Father, which was His will also. Only a 
few days before He had solemnly proclaimed in the tem¬ 
ple: “No one can take My life, but I have the power to 
lay it down and the power to take it up again.” 

After rising from the table and preparing to go out 
from the Cenacle, as St. Luke narrates, this interesting 
incident occurred: Turning to the disciples, “He said to 
them: * When I sent you without purse and scrip and shoes, 
did you want anything?’ But they said: ‘Nothing.’ Then 
said He unto them: ‘ But now he that hath a purse, let him 
take it and likewise a scrip; and he that hath not, let him 
sell his coat and buy a sword, for I say to you that this 
that is written must yet be fulfilled in Me, and with the 
wicked was he reckoned,’ for the things concerning Me 
have an end!” The Apostles, still obtuse of mind, took 
these words in their material sense and said: “Lord, 
behold, here are two swords”; and at once Peter and 
Simon Zelotes took sword in hand. 

The precaution did not seem useless at this time of the 
Passover, since an enormous multitude usually came up 
to Jerusalem, and among them naturally there would be 
some doubtful characters. Besides this, they had to 
traverse through country paths to arrive at Olivet. 
Christ understood their hearts and said simply to them: 


18 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


“It is enough,” and, accompanied by the eleven, He went 
out of the Cenacle towards Gethsemane. 

On the Way to Gethsemane 

Gethsemane was the place where the Master usually 
stayed at night if He delayed in Jerusalem and did not 
wish to go to the hospitable home of His friend Lazarus. 
Some say that Gethsemane was a public garden, others 
that it was the property of Lazarus or of Nicodemus or 
of some other of the disciples of the Master, and that, 
therefore, He could always find safe refuge there. It 
is certain that Christ was accustomed to go there at night 
if detained in the Holy City, and this He did on the first 
evening of the Passion. 

The route which He followed coming from the Cenacle 
is perfectly clear. A short distance from the Cenacle, 
from the summit of Sion, a long series of steps descended 
to the valley which is in the midst of Jerusalem, and 
from there by a rapid descent other stairs led to the 
gate of the city and to the famous pool of Siloe. Thence 
they came out onto the plain towards the south of the 
city. 

To reach Gethsemane from this plain it was necessary 
to walk up the vale of Josaphat bordering the brook 
Cedron; without doubt it was the way followed by Our 
Lord on this sad night. The Apostles, filled with faith 
and love by the discourses of the Master and by the Holy 
Sacram. nt received from Him, walked with Him along 
the way. Being still of rude intellect and simple under¬ 
standing, they naturally could not yet fully understand 


THE LAST SUPPER 


19 


the whole meaning of Christ’s words and all that He had 
done and said in the Cenacle. 

What He had prefigured and predicted as about to 
happen was not all clear to them. How could they per¬ 
suade themselves that this their Master, the long desired 
Messias, could perish miserably! It was all so repugnant 
to what they had ever known, or learned, or understood of 
the promised Messias, Who was to establish a new order 
of things in the world and Who was to restore the King¬ 
dom of Israel, and extend it over all the world. 

So they understood little of all that Christ had told 
them about His Passion and His Death soon to take 
place. 

Still less did they understand the word “resurrection.” 
As St. Luke says, this word was to them a mystery. 
Meanw'hile, the Master on His way to Gethsemane, walk¬ 
ing slowly at times, at times stopping with the Apostles 
gathered around Him, continued His instructions to 
them. “I am the true vine,” He said, “and My Father is 
the husbandman. Be united with Me and I shall be 
with you. As the branch cannot bear fruit unless it re¬ 
mains united to the vine, so you also unless you remain 
in Me.” And He went on to explain more fully the mean¬ 
ing of these words, so apt under the circumstances, so 
necessary to the Apostles just then. 

Again He returns to His great precept: “This is My 
commandment, that you love one another as I have loved 
you. You are My friends if you obey My commandment. 
I command you that you love one another.” It seems as 
if He would never tire of repeating the same words and 


20 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the same sentiment in order to impress profoundly upon 
their souls in that hour, as His last testament, the spirit 
of love which ought to animate His disciples. How little 
the world still seems to understand this chief and most 
important command of Christ! 

Again He returns to the thought of His departure from 
them: “A little while and you shall see Me and again a 
little while and you shall not see Me,” and He goes on to 
comfort them with the assurance that He only leaves 
them to go to His Father that He might prepare for them 
a place, and that He would come again to take them 
with Him. He promises not to leave them orphans, but 
that the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, will come to them, 
sent by the Father in Christ’s own name. 

He predicts the persecutions that will come to them 
and to all His disciples from the world, which would 
always hate them as it hated Him. But He encourages 
them with the thought that He will be with them always, 
and that the Father Himself will strengthen them by 
His love. “Behold,” He says, “I speak to you no more 
in parables. I came from the Father to the world. Again 
I leave the world and return to the Father.” 

The Apostles, struck by the clearness and precision of 
this language, exclaimed: “Behold, now Thou speakest 
clearly to us and not in parables. Now we know that 
Thou knowest all things and there is no need for anyone 
to ask Thee. By this we believe that Thou art come from 
God.” 

And here happens an episode indicated by St. John and 
narrated more at length by St. Matthew and St. Mark. 


THE LAST SUPPER 


21 


At the exclamation of the Apostles: “By this we believe 
that Thou art come from God,” the Master answered: 
“Do you believe now? Behold the hour cometh, indeed 
it is now here, in which you shall be scattered, everyone 
going his own way and you will leave Me all alone. Yet 
I am not all alone for the Father is with Me.” And 
He goes on to say: “All of you shall be scandalized in Me 
this night because it is written: ‘ I shall strike the shep¬ 
herd and the flock shall be dispersed * ”; and then He adds: 
“But after I shall be risen again, I shall go before you 
into Galilee.” 

Again Peter, in his impetuous confidence, exclaims: 
“Though all shall be scandalized in Thee, Lord, I shall 
never be scandalized.” And Jesus answered: “In truth 
I say to thee that in this night, before the cock crows, 
thou shalt deny me thrice.” 

St. Mark, narrating this same incident with more 
precision, writes: “Amen, I say to thee that to-day, even 
in this night, before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny 
me thrice.” 

There is no contradiction here in this detail between 
the Evangelists. The cock crows for the first time about 
midnight and again at about three in the morning. St. 
Matthew and St. Luke occupy themselves little with the 
details of this incident, it would seem; but St. Mark, who 
was the companion of St. Peter, goes more minutely into 
the circumstances wdiich he had heard from the Apostle 
himself and notes the different times of the cock’s crow 
with perfect exactness. Ah! others might forget the sad 
incident with all its details, but Peter, never; never while 


22 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


life lasted was that sad moment out of his memory. Noth¬ 
ing could cure the impetuosity of Peter, it would seem, 
and to the prediction of the Master again he answered: 
“ Even though it be necessary to die with Thee, I shall not 
deny Thee.” 

This strong affirmation of their faith all the others re¬ 
peated after Peter, and they gathered around the Divine 
Master anxious to show Him their love for Him. And He, 
though with the eye of His divine knowledge He foresaw 
already how they would flee from Him in fear, neverthe¬ 
less now comforts them: “These things I have spoken to 
you that in Me you may have peace. In the world you 
shall have distress, but have confidence. I have overcome 
the world.” 

They had already traversed nearly all of the way and 
were approaching the bridge of the brook which led them 
almost immediately to Gethsemane. The moon, almost 
full, was already risen above Mount Olivet and sent its 
pallid rays over the valley, lighting up the hills about and 
shining brightly above Mount Moria. Above on the op¬ 
posite hill, crowned with the walls of the Holy City, arose 
the great temple, “the House of My Father,” as Christ 
frequently called it, where He had wrought so many 
prodigies, where He had talked so sublimely of the things 
of God. 

In that hour of sorrow, lifting up His eyes to Him, fac¬ 
ing the Holy City and the temple, He uttered this wonder¬ 
ful prayer: “Father, the hour has come. Glorify Thy Son 
that Thy Son may glorify Thee! Thou hast given Him 
power over all flesh that He may give eternal life to all 


THE LAST SUPPER 


23 


whom Thou hast given Him. Now this is eternal life that 
they may know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, 
whom Thou hast sent. I have glorified Thee upon earth, 
I have finished the work Thou hast given Me to do, and 
now glorify Me before Thee, O Father, with that glory 
which I had before the world was with Thee.” 

And turning His thoughts from His Eternal Father to 
those who stood around Him, He continued: “I pray not 
for the world, but for them whom Thou hast given Me; 
because they are Thine. . . . Holy Father, keep them in 
Thy Name whom Thou hast given Me, that they may be 
one as We are one. While I was with them, I kept them in 
Thy Name ... and none of them is lost but the son of 
perdition that the Scripture may be fulfilled. ... I pray 
not that Thou shouldst take them out of the world, but 
that Thou shouldst keep them from evil. They are not of 
the world, as I also am not of the world. Sanctify them 
in truth. And not alone for them do I pray, but for them 
also who through their word shall believe in Me, that they 
all may be one, as Thou, Father, in Me, and I in Thee. ... 
Father, I will that where I am they also whom Thou hast 
given Me may be with Me; that they may see My glory 
which Thou hast given Me, because Thou hast loved Me 
before the creation of the world. Just Father, the world 
hath not known Thee, but I have known Thee; and these 
have known that Thou hast sent Me. And I have made 
known Thy Name to them, and will make it known, that 
the Love wherewith Thou hast loved Me may be in them, 
and I in them.” 

He was silent awhile and none of the Apostles dared to 


24 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


speak a word. The brook Cedron flowing on between the 
rocks at the bottom of the valley seemed to echo the voice 
of the Lord. A veil of sadness descended upon the souls of 
all of them. 

Soon they passed the bridge and they were at the en¬ 
trance to Gethsemane. Here the Divine Master halted 
His footsteps for a moment, and gazed over the valley up 
the hill where the Holy City and the great temple stood. 
The ruin of both He had predicted only two days before. 
Surely, it was a wonderful spectacle. The walls of Solo¬ 
mon, restored by Herod, lifted themselves proudly round 
about Moria. The great eastern gate with its ornaments 
of chiseled bronze faced towards the grand entrance to 
the porticoes of Herod and Solomon, in the midst of which 
arose the Sanctum and the Sanctum Sanctorum. 

The silver beams of the moon lighted up the spires of 
the pinnacle, showing forth the battlements of the galler¬ 
ies in their brilliant marble, clothing them with soft light 
descending from a sky of turquoise, dotted with a million 
stars. In the quiet of that spring night, the Divine Maj¬ 
esty seemed still to be all clemency and tenderness to¬ 
wards the throne erected to Him by His chosen people. 
Alas! it was the very last caress of the mercy which God 
offered to the unhappy city. 


CHAPTER IV 

IN GETHSEMANE 

Gethsemane, situated on the side of Mount Olivet, was 
called the Garden of Olives because of the ancient olive 
trees which covered the slope of the mountain. In the 
midst of this olive grove was a shelter for the oil press, 
where the weary traveler might find a modest resting 
place. To-day there remains no trace of this shelter. 
There is instead, still intact, a large grotto, or cavern, 
deep in the mountain side. That, too, offered itself as a 
shelter from the cold of the night. 

Computing the time of leaving the Cenacle as about 
seven o’clock in the evening, it would be about nine 
o’clock at night that Christ reached Gethsemane. 

At the entrance to the Garden, the Master, again 
breaking the long silence, said to His Apostles: “Sit you 
here till I go yonder and pray.” 

Not wishing, however, to go entirely alone. He took 
with Him three of His Apostles, Peter, James, and John. 
It was they who had seen the glory of the Son of Man and 
j the splendors of the Transfiguration on Thabor. It was to 
/ them that in the midst of all of the joy of that day He had 
indicated the end which would take place in Jerusalem. 
They at least should not now be scandalized, should not 
be disturbed in the midst of these sorrowful conditions; 
and these He chose now to be the witnesses of His terrible 
sufferings on that fatal night. 


26 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Advancing slowly into the heart of the grove with His 
three companions, He began to tremble and a profound 
sadness and an awful fatigue seized His soul. “My soul 
is sorrowful even unto death,” He moaned with trembling 
lips. Overwhelmed with suffering, He sought a solitude 
still greater, and He said to His three Apostles: “Stay 
here and watch.” Then, as St. Luke narrates. He left 
them and walked away a stone’s throw. 

The Prayeb 

He felt the profound necessity of being entirely alone, 
alone with His Father, to reveal to Him freely the fullness 
of His soul and to breathe the prayer of our redemption. 
Prostrate, with His face to the earth, He groaned and 
said: “My father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass 
from Me. Nevertheless, not my will but Thine be done. 
Father! Father! everything is possible with Thee. Take 
away this chalioe from Me. Yet not as I will, but as Thou 
wiliest.” 

How deep the mystery in this suffering of Our Lord! 
Had He not said once, “ I have a baptism wherewith I am 
to be baptized, and how am I straightened until it be ac¬ 
complished? ” Had He not just proclaimed in the Cenacle, 
“With a great desire, have I desired to eat this Pasch 
with you.” Did He not, therefore, in union with His 
Father’s will, desire the fulfilling of His terrible Passion? 
Surely He did. Why, therefore, this awful grief, this pro¬ 
found sorrow which makes Him exclaim that His soul is 
sorrowful even unto death? 

The Son of God, taking upon Himself the nature of 


IN GETHSEMANE 


27 


Man, became similar to us in all things, sin excepted. And 
so as man He suffered hunger and thirst. He felt fatigue 
and weariness. He exulted at the resurrection of Lazarus 
and wept over Jerusalem. So now, in the shadow of His 
great Passion, there arose within Him the terror which 
reigns in every human heart at the sight of sacrifice. And 
then, too, He must have thought: “ What good will all this 
suffering do? What will all My pain and anguish avail?” 

By the light of that divinity which illumined the soul 
of the Redeemer, He saw not only the terrors of the Pas¬ 
sion just before Him, but He also saw its consequences 
throughout all succeeding ages. In that supreme hour, so 
the Fathers and all the mystics agree, passed as if in a 
picture all the scenes of His Sacred Passion. 

He saw the horrible torture which He must soon un¬ 
dergo. He saw the treachery of Judas, the desertion of 
the Apostles, the yelling of the crowd before the judgment 
seat, the flagellation, the crowning with thorns, the cruci¬ 
fixion, and the bitter jests flung at Him while hanging on 
the Cross. Before His soul, divinely enlightened, Jesus re¬ 
viewed the whole story of human events till the end of the 
world. He saw the heroism of the martyrs, the virtue of 
the saints, and the immense love for Him of an innumer¬ 
able multitude of Christians. This sight consoled His 
breaking heart. But He saw, too, the vices, the sins, the 
abominations of the whole perverse world, the heresies and 
the schisms which would rend His Holy Church and pro¬ 
fane the sanctuary. 

He saw the sufferings of many souls dear to Him, caused 
by the injustice of others. He saw, too, alas! — and this 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


28 

was the culmination of His grief — the uselessness of all 
His sufferings for a great multitude of the wicked, to 
whom His divine Passion would be only an added argu¬ 
ment for greater irritation and anger, as Simeon had 
prophesied: “This Child is set for the fall and the resur¬ 
rection of many in Israel and for a sign which shall be 
contradicted.” At the sight of all this His heart was 
crushed within Him. 

But His grief and terror certainly did not mean His re¬ 
fusal to face His terrible Passion and to undergo it all, 
since often He had told of the necessity of His sacrifice 
and His willingness to accept it. So, though terrified at 
the awfful vision spread before Him and weak unto death 
with sadness at the sight of it, still He went to meet it all 
with firm and resolute will; just as the patient may abhor 
the disgusting taste of the medicine, but He takes it be¬ 
cause it is helpful, as St. Thomas so aptly says. 

But it was not only the vision of the suffering imme¬ 
diately confronting Him and of the future trials of His 
Church and His faithful followers which weighed down 
the heart of Christ in deep anguish; nor was it alone the 
desolating picture of all the ingratitude of humanity and 
the uselessness of His Passion for many that grieved Him 
so sorely. There was still another motive even more 
exalted and more noble. 

He was torn with grief at the sight of our sins and He 
begged God, His Eternal Father, to pardon them. He 
bore upon His own shoulders the sins of the whole world. 
“He assumed our sins and He suffered for them,” writes 
St. Ambrose. “He suffered for the sins of all,” St. Thomas 


IN GETHSEMANE 


29 


writes. “Not only that, the grief and the sorrow of Christ 
for sins surpassed the contrition of all sinners ” (continues 
St. Thomas) “because our Lord, more than anyone else, 
understood the iniquity of sin; and because upon His soul 
was laid the whole weight of all the sorrow and remorse 
of every sinner in the whole world.” 

History tells us the story of many a sinner who, face to 
face with the horror of his own faults and lapses, touched 
by a ray of divine grace, became utterly inconsolable, 
wept torrents of tears, fainted, and some even died of 
grief at the feet of their confessor. 

Imagine, then, the torture which seized upon the soul of 
Christ as He gazed with the saddest of eyes upon all the in¬ 
numerable and indescribable burdens of human iniquity 
which now were heaped upon Him, an innocent victim of 
their malice. No wonder He cried aloud with a breaking 
heart: “ My soul is sorrowful even unto death,” and, His 
human strength being unable further to bear the awful 
burden, He fell upon the ground prone in fearful agony 
and the blood rushed out from every pore of His body. 
Here we must note the words of St. Ambrose: “He is 
sorrowful, not He Himself, not the divine substance, but 
the soul of Christ; for divinity suffers not, but the human¬ 
ity of Christ suffered the most exquisite torments.” 

Here we must consider the sublime efficacy of the works 
and deeds of Christ for the redemption of humanity. The 
rebellion and the offense of a miserable creature of earth 
in its moral effects reach the infinite, and therefore such 
offense can never be adequately atoned for except by a 
grief and sorrow of infinite value and by a penitence of in- 


30 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


finite worth. Hence, man alone, of himself, as a finite be¬ 
ing, is incapable of satisfying the Divine Justice, no mat¬ 
ter how great his grief or how deep his penitence. 

But behold! the Son of God comes down from Heaven, 
takes up our human nature, a human soul and a human 
body, and, as Man, offers to His Divine Father His pray¬ 
ers and supplications for us, and undergoes for us His own 
terrible Passion and Death. Because His prayers and His 
sufferings are of infinite value, He being God as well as 
Man, they supply what no merit of ours alone could ever 
give. As in the case of a man composed of body and soul 
who suffers or is wounded in any single member, he suffers 
and is wounded as a man, so Christ, a person Human- 
Divine, suffering in His humanity, suffers as Christ, that 
is, as the Man-God; and His acts, precisely because they 
are those of a Man-God, have an infinite value. 

Oh, wonderful Providence of God which thus concili¬ 
ates the perfect satisfaction of Divine Justice with pity and 
mercy towards man! “Oh, the depth of the riches of the 
wisdom and knowledge of God, how incomprehensible are 
His judgments, how unsearchable His ways!” (St. Paul 
to the Romans, xi, 33.) Oh, what should be our gratitude 
towards Our Heavenly Father Who for us gave His Only 
Begotten Son! And how can we ever show our sentiments 
of deep thankfulness to Christ, Who by His prayers and 
tears and the awful sufferings of His Sacred Passion has 
saved us from the consequences of the sin of Adam and 
the results of our own sins? 

For an hour thus Jesus remained in prayer. Trembling 
and weak, at last He arose and made His way tottering to- 


IN GETHSEMANE 


31 


wards the three Apostles whom He had left a short dis¬ 
tance away. Perhaps He thought to find in their company 
some slight respite from the terror which had over¬ 
whelmed His soul, as one seeks his friends when his soul 
is overwhelmed with grief. And then, too, as the Faith¬ 
ful Shepherd, He was still anxious about the welfare of 
His little flock. 

He found them sleeping. They, too, had been over¬ 
whelmed with grief, as St. Luke clearly indicates. 
Sweetly He complains to them, saying to Peter: “Simon, 
dost thou sleep? Couldst thou not watch one hour with 
Me? Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation.” 

Surely, this was no light fault on the part of the three 
chosen Apostles. They had begun well, praying together 
with sorrowful souls, but soon, in the absence of the Mas¬ 
ter, their forces began to fail them and nature conquered. 
Christ knew all this and, as if to excuse them and comfort 
them, said: “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is 
weak.” 

And here the Fathers and the Doctors of the Church ad¬ 
monish that the omission of prayer in time of great anxi¬ 
ety weakened in the Apostles that special grace which 
alone could keep them strong, and thus they were exposed 
to the weakness of the flesh and of nature. 

Once more the Master, with labored steps, slowly, 
bowed in weakness, sought solitude in prayer. The Apos¬ 
tles watched Him with anxious eyes, terrified beyond 
words at the sight of His unspeakable grief and weakness. 
An awful sorrow seized upon their souls and they, too, 
began to pray in silence. 


32 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Upon His knees, with His eyes lifted towards Heaven, 
the Divine Master raised again His trembling voice: 
“Father, if it is not possible that this chalice should pass 
unless I drink it, Thy will be done.” The prayer is the 
same in general as the one He had offered a short time be¬ 
fore, only now one sees more clearly the complete resigna¬ 
tion of Christ to the sacrifice. 

Again, after some time, He returned to the three Apos¬ 
tles, but again He found them overwhelmed with weak¬ 
ness and dead asleep. Feeling His presence near them, 
they awoke in terror and bounded to their feet. And St. 
Mark says that in their confusion they knew not what to 
answer Him. Again, they had failed in fidelity; they had 
slept while He was suffering His terrible agony. 

For the third time Jesus retired to the solitude of 
prayer and again besought God to hear Him. And here 
St. Luke narrates an incident of striking importance. In 
the midst of His agony there appeared to Him an angel 
from Heaven to comfort Him, and as the agony of His 
soul increased He prayed even more fervently and His 
sweat became like drops of blood, which rained down over 
His body to the earth. 

History narrates the example of various people who, at 
the time of unspeakable anguish, have sweated blood. 
The description, therefore, of St. Luke helps us the better 
to realize the force of the words of Christ: “ My soul is sor¬ 
rowful even unto death.” Here let us remark, in passing, 
that though this particular description of St. Luke is omit¬ 
ted in some of the Greek and Latin codices, St. Epipha- 
nius explains the omission by stating that the copyists of 


IN GETHSEMANE 


33 


the time, fearing that the Arians would use that text to 
sustain their heresy against the Divinity of Jesus Christ, 
left these words out. But the codices which the Church 
has always retained as authentic and complete give the 
words of St. Luke as narrated. In fact all the ancient 
Fathers, St. Justin, St. John Chrysostom, St. Hilary, St. 
Epiphanius and others, comment upon it expressly as in¬ 
dicating the intensity of the love of Christ for sinners. 

Let us stop for a moment to consider these words of St. 
Luke. As the angels of Heaven had chanted the Gloria in 
Excelsis above the crib of the newborn Messias; as they 
had appeared to Him in the desert after His long fast and 
the temptation of Satan (St. Matthew iv, 11): so now an 
angel of the Lord appears to Jesus, adoring Him and offer¬ 
ing to Him in His suffering heavenly words of consola¬ 
tion. On that awful night, when He was about to be be¬ 
trayed, while the pontiffs and princes of His people were 
preparing for Him an ignominious and cruel death, when 
abandoned by all, even by His three mast faithful dis¬ 
ciples, His heavenly Father sends Him one of His angels 
to stay by Him and comfort Him in His hour of unspeak¬ 
able sorrow. 

What may have been the consoling words which this 
angel of God addressed to his suffering Lord? Did he, per¬ 
chance, reveal to Him the dread necessity of His awful 
sacrifice, the incalculable good which would result from it 
for all eternity? Did he tell Him of the infinite glory it 
would give forevermore to His Divine Father, or unveil to 
Him how millions upon millions of men, filled with an im¬ 
mense love for Him, would exalt His Name above every 


34 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


other name until time should be no more, and that gener¬ 
ation after generation of His faithful followers would bend 
the knee at the mention of His Holy Name, and that all in 
Heaven, on earth and in Hell would henceforth acknowl¬ 
edge Him as the Saviour? 

The Evangelists say nothing of this, but surely Christ 
by the apparition and with the consolation of the angel of 
God gathered strength to face the bitter end. Yet the 
Evangelist narrates that, after the apparition of the an¬ 
gel, Jesus entered into His agony and sweated blood. 
What human soul can solve these sublime mysteries en¬ 
tirely? But many of those who have meditated upon the 
Passion of Christ believe that, while Our Blessed Lord was 
strengthened and consoled in His full acceptance of the 
chalice offered Him to drink, the struggle between His will 
and the mere human inclinations of His human nature 
and the senses was so great that it caused the same phe¬ 
nomena as one sees in the death agony. 

The terror which Christ felt affected the heart with 
such a violent constriction that a cold sweat diffused it¬ 
self all over His body, and this cold sweat, by the reaction 
and impulse of the heart, became little by little tinged 
with blood which bathed His forehead and the members of 
His body so copiously that it dropped upon the earth 
where He knelt. Oh, ineffable mystery of the sorrow and 
the love of Jesus Christ! 

Many Fathers and theologians hold that at this awful 
time of Christ’s suffering this bloody sweat was caused by 
the str’ggle of the soul of Christ with eternal justice; 
that He, the new Adam, prayed that the sentence of 


IN GETHSEMANE 85 

death upon the old Adam, who had brought sin upon the 
world, might be abrogated. 

Indeed, agony, in its original Greek sense, means strug¬ 
gle, and especially the supreme struggle which man 
makes at the hour of death. St. Ambrose, speaking of the 
agony of Christ, says: “He struggled for me that He 
might conquer for me.” 

Some writers see in the agony of Christ something of a 
similar instance in the case of Jacob struggling with the 
angel and not letting him go until he had blessed him. St. 
Isadore writes: “In His Passion Christ, in the weakness of 
His human nature, seems to overcome God.” And this 
also is the thought of St. Paul when he writes: “Who in 
the days of His flesh, with a strong cry and tears, offering 
up prayers and supplications to Him that was able to save 
Him from death, was heard for His reverence.” (Hebrews 
v, 7.) 

We see, therefore, how this fearful agony of Christ was 
a supreme struggle of grief and love on the part of Our 
Blessed Lord, so violent and so terrible that it made Him 
sweat even blood for our salvation. O Divine Redeemer, 
how can we ever thank Thee for all Thy wonderful mercy 
and goodness, for Thy tears and Thy prayers, and the 
dread agony of Thy suffering for us and for our salvation! 

One may ask; Who was this consoling angel sent by the 
Divine Father to His suffering Son? It is generally be¬ 
lieved to be the Archangel Gabriel, whom we have known 
as the privileged messenger of Heaven in the work of re¬ 
demption. He it was who was sent to Daniel to indicate 


36 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


to him, five centuries before, the precise epoch of this 
great event. He it was who predicted to Zachary the birth 
of the Precursor, and it was he also, who announced to 
Mary, Most Holy, the great Annunciation. It is reason¬ 
able to believe that now again he comes down to earth 
with a message of consolation and fortitude from the Eter¬ 
nal Father to the God-Man in agony. 

Consoled and strengthened by the words of the angel, 
and feeling assured now that He had been heard by His 
Divine Father, the Master arose and for the third time re¬ 
turned to the three disciples, whom for the third time He 
found in deep slumber. “Sleep ye now,” He says, “and 
take your rest. It is enough: the hour is come: Behold 
the Son of Man shall be betrayed into the hands of sin¬ 
ners. Rise up, let us go. Behold! he that will betray Me 
is at hand.” And in truth already, through the shadow of 
the trees, near the bridge above the brook Cedron, may be 
seen advancing slowly and cautiously, looking slyly hither 
and thither as they advanced, a large group of men. 

The Capture 

The Apostles, alas! had allowed themselves to be over¬ 
come by sleep, but Judas and the Pharisees and the other 
enemies of Our Lord yielded to no such weakness and 
lost no time. How often one sees the same sad truth veri¬ 
fied ! The iniquitous sow their wicked seed and labor day 
and night, while the good sleep. Three or four hours af¬ 
ter he left the Cenacle, Judas went to gather a large body 
of armed men (turba multa). This crowd was armed with 


IN GETHSEMANE 37 

swords and clubs and was provided with lanterns and 
axes. 

Judas had obtained from the priests the order for some 
of their ministers to accompany him. Was it for aid or de¬ 
fense? Very likely for both. Impelled by passion and by 
Satan, who had entered into him, he gave, with a sicken¬ 
ing cynicism, instructions to his men so that they might 
make no mistake in the capture. That they might recog¬ 
nize the Nazarene, he fixed upon a signal, the kiss of friend¬ 
ship: “Whomsoever I shall kiss, that is He.” And he 
added: “Lay hold on Him and lead Him away carefully.” 

The Master with His three x4postles, meanwhile, ap¬ 
proached the other eight, and all together they walked 
sadly and slowly towards the gate of the garden. There, 
unexpectedly, they encountered the traitor, who ap¬ 
proached with furtive steps. Judas had hoped to sur¬ 
prise the Master in His prayers or in sleep, and in giving 
Him the kiss, which was the mark understood by the 
guards, he hoped to deliver Him to them without being 
discovered by the Master and His disciples. 

How little he understood the clearness of vision of 
Christ! Judas had hoped to cover himself by his deceit, but 
Christ openly reveals the infamy of the traitor by going 
out to meet him, surrounded by His eleven disciples. And 
facing Judas, with a ringing voice He asks him: “Friend, 
why comest thou here?” Friend! The loving and tender 
title with which He was accustomed to salute His dis¬ 
ciples. 

But alas! though taken by surprise, the sweet word of 
Christ touched him not at all. Nevertheless, overcome 


38 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


by confusion, he stammers into a mocking salutation: 
“Rabbi, Rabbi, Ave! ” “ Master, Master, Hail!” At once 
he kissed Jesus. Christ, turning, said to him: “Judas, 
dost thou betray the Son of Man with a kiss?” 

In these words Christ made it clear to Judas and to all 
that He understood well the sign of the traitor. Did this 
revelation open the eyes of Judas and soften his heart? 
Did not the ineffable sweetness of these words of the 
Divine Master arouse in the heart of the traitor at 
least some slight sentiment of remorse? What went on in 
the soul of Judas we know not, for of that the Scripture 
is silent. But certainly, more even than the look of love 
which later He gave to Peter, more than the sweet words 
of pardon that He addressed to the Magdalen, more than 
the promise of Paradise to the good thief upon the cross, 
this calm and sweet and merciful salutation of the Re¬ 
deemer to the traitor, intent only on delivering Him to 
His enemies, moves us ineffably at the thought of the 
divine magnanimity which filled to overflowing Christ’s 
Sacred Heart. 

Oh, the goodness and the mercy of Christ! What a 
lesson in charity and patience for us! How it opens our 
hearts with hope eternal! Ah, yes if only, when Christ 
speaks, we do not resist His voice; if only, when Christ 
looks upon us, we do not close our eyes to the light of His 
truth; if only, when He reminds us of our sins, we do 
humble penance for them; if, in a word, we follow the 
example of Peter, not of Judas! 

The Apostles, filled with indignation at the sight of this 


IN GETHSEMANE 


39 


treachery on the part of their former colleague, gathered 
close about Jesus with threatening countenances, but 
Christ, in the midst of all this commotion, moved tran¬ 
quilly to meet the crowd of armed men who, seeing Him 
suddenly before them, for a moment stood still in their 
places. 

“Whom seek ye? ” He said to them with an even voice. 
They answered: “Jesus of Nazareth.” And Christ said: 
“I am He.” At this solemn declaration the crowd before 
Him staggered back and fell upon the ground, even as the 
cedars of Lebanon fall before a violent tempest, or as the 
desert sands are whirled before a strong wind. The light 
of their lanterns was extinguished and Christ stood before 
them illumined by the splendor of the silvery moon, and 
He seemed at that moment a glorious victor triumphing 
over His enemies. 

The crowd, stunned and amazed, stumbled to their 
feet again, and then Jesus repeated the question: “Whom 
seek ye?” And voices from out the crowd replied: “Jesus 
of Nazareth”; to which Christ answered: “I have already 
told you that I am He. Since you seek Me, let these go,” 
pointing to the eleven who stood about Him in wondering 
fear and amazement. This the Master said in a voice of 
command, and the guards, taking it as such, allowed the 
Apostles to withdraw. But before going, realizing the 
situation suddenly, some of the Apostles said to the 
Master: “Lord, shall we strike with the sword?” Peter 
impulsively drew forth the sword which he had carried 
with him from the Cenacle, and struck with it the first 
one who came towards him. He was a servant of the 


40 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


High Priest named Malchus and with the blow Peter cut 
off his right ear. , 

This impetuous act on the part of the Prince of the 
Apostles served only to increase the confusion and dis¬ 
order of the scene. Christ, always calm, turning to His 
disciples said: “Let it be. It is enough.” And, turning 
to Peter, He said to him: “ Put up thy sword into the 
scabbard, for he who draweth the sword shall perish by 
the sword. What think you? Can I not ask My Father 
and He would give Me more than twelve legions of angels? 
How then shall the Scripture be fulfilled that so it must 
be done? And must I not drink the chalice which My 
Father has given Me to drink?” And, going up close to 
Malchus, He touched his ear and healed it. 

Let us consider a moment this series of wonderful 
events. “It is I,” said Jesus, “Ego Sum,” and at the 
words His enemies fall to earth. Long since, this same 
potent word was pronounced on Horeb and on Sinai. It 
was the voice of God announcing to the people of Israel, 
in the midst of thunder and lightning, His great command¬ 
ments, “I am Who am. I am the Lord, thy God.” And 
once again, for the third time, that same voice will pro¬ 
claim the presence of God, and that time it will be in this 
same valley of Josaphat where Christ met Judas. It will 
be the voice of the Son of God sitting in judgment before 
all the generations of the earth; and again that same dec¬ 
laration of His Divinity will fill the earth and the children 
of the earth with mortal terror. 

This is the thought of St. Augustine when he says: 
“What will be the power of the voice of the Son of God 


IN GETHSEMANE 


41 


when He comes in glory, if here in the face of death it was 
so terrible and potent?” And St. Ambrose, continuing 
in the line of these same reflections, says: “Behold how 
at the very sound of His voice this great crowd of His 
enemies, fierce in anger and terrible in arms, at one word 
from Christ fell prostrate to the earth!” 

To the consideration of this wonderful event we must 
add several others, all of which are manifestations of 
Christ’s Divinity, even in the moment of His greatest 
dejection. Note well the revelation of the secret sign by 
which Judas was to betray his Master, the kiss of friend¬ 
ship; and further, too, behold the miraculous healing of 
Malchus. These things Judas and the crowd with him 
saw clearly with their own eyes, but all in vain. At that 
moment they were blind with passion or weak with fear 
or insane with malice and wickedness. Later, as the 
Apostles recalled these events, some of these people 
opened their eyes to the true light, but at that moment 
eyes and minds were closed to the divine reality before 
them. They were determined to work out their evil plan, 
and God, permitting that, still made them serve His 
eternal designs. 

The Divine Master, still standing meekly before them, 
reproved them for the boisterous and angry manner with 
which they had come out to take Him. “You have come 
here,” He said, “with swords and clubs to arrest Me as if 
I were a thief. Every day I was wdth you in the temple 
sitting among you and teaching you, yet you stretched not 
out your arms against Me. But this is your hour and the 
power of darkness, that the Scripture may be fulfilled.” 


42 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


By these words, clearly, He gave them permission to 
seize Him. Then only did they throw themselves upon 
Jesus. Without any legal formality they bound Him 
forcibly as if He were a dangerous criminal. 

Where now are the Apostles? Where now is Peter, who 
had sworn to accompany Him even unto death? All had 
abandoned Him; all, seized with terror, fled from Him. 
Not one of them was arrested, not even Peter, who had 
done enough to be indicted. No, they were allowed to go 
their way, for Christ had said to the mob: “If you seek 
Me, let these go,” and thus the prayer of Christ to His 
Father was fulfilled: “Of those Whom Thou hast given 
Me I have lost no one.” Even now began to be verified 
the pathetic words of the Redeemer. True, He was even 
now in the midst of humiliations and sufferings which 
would end only by His death, even by the death of the 
Cross; but in the very midst of all this contempt and 
ignominy the Divinity of the Victim shone forth, and 
His Name, even now, was above every other name. 


CHAPTER V 

ON MOUNT SION 

The Progress towards the House of the High 

Priest 

St. Ambrose bids us remember that, when we read that 
Jesus was taken, we must beware of thinking that He 
was taken unwillingly or on account of any weakness of 
His own. “Ule enim quando voluit detentus est, quando 
voluit occisus est.” — “When He wished He was bound, 
when He wished, He was delivered unto death,” says St. 
Augustine. “Oblatus est quia ipse voluit.” — “He was 
offered because He wished it,” is the prophetic utterance 
of Isaias. The ministers of the Sanhedrim and the armed 
mob who came out against Him had really no power over 
Him but that which He Himself permitted. 

This is evident from the first moment w T hen, at the 
mere declaration of His presence before them, they fell 
senseless to the earth. But once having shown forth His 
divine power, as the glory of God and the prestige of His 
mission as Redeemer demanded, He allowed free rein to 
the laws of nature and the will of man, unjust as it was. 
So as a child, when the fury of Herod sought to put to 
death the newborn King of the Jews, He stopped not 
the hand of the impious tyrant, neither did He perform 
extraordinary prodigies, but He withdrew by His flight 
with Mary, His mother, and Joseph, from the infamous 
persecution of the king. 


44 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


We must often remember this when face to face with the 
evils that confront us. With short-sighted vision we ex¬ 
pect Divine Justice immediately to intervene and destroy 
the plans of the impious who plot against us. Divine Jus¬ 
tice, we may well be assured, will intervene, but in its own 
good time and w T hen the infinite wisdom of God deems 
it opportune for His greater glory and for the order and 
well-being of humanity. Christ, therefore, we repeat, 
went to meet death because He wished so to do. The 
Son of God, made man to become a new Adam for our 
redemption, by the very fact that He offers Himself will¬ 
ingly for our salvation, acquires still greater title to our 
gratitude and attachment to Him, just as a good father, 
by the voluntary character of his labors and privations, 
merits all the more the love and devotion of his children. 

In the most barbarous manner the mob bound Jesus 
with cords and chains. Judas, you remember, had ad¬ 
vised them to take Him away with caution. Evidently 
they feared some surprise and they wished to make sure 
of their prey. Doubtless the ministers of the Sanhedrim, 
wdio had accompanied Judas and the crowd, directed all 
these cruel maneuvers. With a word He had terrified 
them all, so this time they would make sure that He could 
not escape them. 

“At last!” they cried out, “we have You in our hands 
and we will make sure that You shall not escape us. Now 
that we have You bound, what force have You to resist 
us? FreeYourself now if You can. You thought to frighten 
us with a word. Now where are Your wonderful arts and 
conceits?” Had they not remembered that Samson one 


QN MOUNT SION 


45 


day had pulled down the very pillars of the house about 
him? Even so might Christ have broken through all 
their cords and chains as if they were a mere cobweb, but 
Jesus had said: “This is your hour and the power of 
darkness.” 

They began now to form themselves roughly in ranks, 
and, placing the Master like a prisoner in the midst of 
them, they marched rapidly to conduct Him before the 
high priests, dragging Him and pushing Him cruelly as 
in their hurry they ran along the road. Crossing the 
brook Cedron, they began to descend the valley. At a 
point along the road a youth, clothed in a white garment, 
began to follow them. Struck with the thought that he, 
perhaps, was one of the messengers of the Nazarene, they 
turned to seize him, but he fled from them, leaving in their 
hands the white cloth which had covered him. 

Who, we may ask, was this? There are some who think 
that it was the Evangelist, St. Mark, who narrates the 
fact. Others think it was the Apostle John, or James the 
Less, but one may well doubt whether any of the Apostles, 
who already had abandoned Him, would risk following 
Him so close at hand. It is true that two of the Apostles 
did follow the Lord, but, as the Evangelist said, from 
afar. It may be that the noisy procession aroused the 
youth from his sleep, and that, driven by curiosity, he 
rushed out of the house to see what was going on. We 
know nothing more certain about him. 

Halfway up the valley a street led up the hill towards 
the gate of the city, which opened upon the quarter 
called Ophel. This was the shortest way to the house of 


46 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the high priests on Sion. It would be only natural that 
in their haste they would take the nearest way, and such, 
indeed, is the opinion of most commentators. Ophel was 
the part of the city inhabited by the poorer class, who had 
always been fervent followers and friends of the Naza- 
rene, among whom He had done many miracles. The 
crowd feared that in passing through this part of the city 
the friends of Christ would rise up and attempt to free 
Him. The Sanhedrim, in fact, had taken every precaution 
against this, and the public square and the streets were 
filled with soldiers. In fact the presence of the soldiery 
and the noisy rumors of the crowd which had captured 
the Master aroused these poor friends of Christ from their 
beds, and they ran to the windows and poured out into 
the streets to see what had happened. 

When they saw the beloved Master bound in the midst 
of the guards, His countenance pale as death, His clothing 
in disorder, bound by ropes with which the guards pulled 
Him along, they raised a cry of indignation and protest, 
and many, at the sight of One Who had been such a dear 
friend to the people, bowed their heads and wept bitterly. 
Others, alas! weak souls as there always are even among 
friends, were scandalized at the sight of Christ in the 
hour of His abandonment; and though they before had be¬ 
lieved in Him on account of the miracles He had wrought 
among them, now they allowed doubt and diffidence to 
enter their hearts. This then, as now, is always the first 
step towards yielding the great cause of the Lord. 

Passing through the quarter Ophel, the mob then de¬ 
scended into the valley and from there began the ascent 


ON MOUNT SION 


47 


to Sion. The path led them through gardens and groves 
lying along the side of the hill and finally reached the 
top, at the house of the high priests. 

Annas, Caiphas — The Sanhedrim 

It will not be without interest to know something of 
the character of the high priests and the Council of the 
Sanhedrim. 

Annas, the son of Seth, appears to have been elected 
legally to the office of High Priest. After the expulsion of 
Archelaus, the son of Herod the First, Rome assumed 
directly the government of the Province of Judea under 
the rule of a procurator. At the end of nine years Annas 
was deposed, though the office of High Priest was for life. 
Rome had decided against him, and Rome’s decision 
must be obeyed. 

Annas, however, in the eyes of the Israelites, retained 
all the prestige of his election to the high priesthood. 
He had various successors, each of whom served but a 
short term until Caiphas came into the office, who, ac¬ 
cording to Josephus Flavius, had purchased his position 
at a great price. At the time when Christ was brought 
before his tribunal, he had occupied the position of High 
Priest already sixteen years. 

Caiphas was a weak man, entirely in the hands of his 
father-in-law, Annas, who, though old, was extremely 
clever, astute and rich. He was the practical head of the 
sacerdotal party. In fact, whenever the two names were 
mentioned together, Annas took precedence. This St. 
Luke marks wh^n he says: “Under the high priests. 


48 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Annas and Caiphas.” (St. Luke hi, 2.) Annas, therefore, 
was the leading figure in the conspiracy hatched against 
the Master, and upon him chiefly rests the crime of 
deicide. 

Josephus Flavius gives us a clear description of the 
iniquitous character of Annas, Caiphas, and the whole 
family. The Talmud, the legal text of the Hebrew nation, 
thus speaks of the High Priest: “What a wrath of God 
is this family of Simon Boetius! May their tongues be 
forever accursed! What dread misfortune is the fam¬ 
ily of Annas! Accursed be the hisses of these vipers!” 
These were the men who, in the time of Our Blessed 
Lord, were the supreme heads of the Jewish religion. 

Great as was the authority of the high priests, it was 
not, however, absolute. The final decision rested with 
the Sanhedrim, the Great Council of the nation, which 
from the time of the Machabees had controlled the more 
important affairs, both religious and political. It is true 
that the Romans had abbreviated much of their author¬ 
ity. Especially had they taken away from them the power 
of life and death. Nevertheless, the power of the Sanhe¬ 
drim was very great, as is evident from the Acts of the 
Apostles and the writings of the Evangelists and from the 
works of the historian, Josephus Flavius. The arrest and 
indictment of the Master also prove this. 

The High Priest of the time presided over the San¬ 
hedrim. Caiphas, therefore, now occupied that place. It 
was composed of the heads of the sacerdotal tribe, who 
were called princes of the priests, of the doctors of the law, 
of the scribes and elders of the Hebrew people. 


ON MOUNT SION 


49 


At the time of Our Blessed Lord the Hebrew ruling 
classes, many of the Hebrew people themselves, and also 
the Sanhedrim, were divided into two factions, the Phar¬ 
isees and the Sadducees. The Pharisees were a puritani¬ 
cal sect, purists to the point of ridicule. Their fanatical 
zeal reached even to the meticulous in casuistry, and they 
made great ostentation of their own prayers in the tem¬ 
ple and in public places, in their endeavor to impress the 
people with their sanctity. But underneath all this scru¬ 
pulosity and devotion was hidden a heart of corruption, 
full of vices, of injustice and rapine. Hypocrites, whitened 
sepulchres, indeed they were, as Christ openly called them. 
The Baptist understood them well when he named them 
a race of vipers. 

The Sadducees, on the contrary, were skeptics and 
epicureans. They denied the immortality of the soul and, 
as a consequence, the resurrection of the body and the 
life everlasting. They turned all their attention to the 
enjoyment of the present, observing, nevertheless, the 
outward prescriptions of the Law, especially such as 
tended towards public order, the peace of the community 
and the enjoyment of life. It is fairly certain that among 
this sect of the Sadducees were reckoned the high priests, 
Annas and Caiphas. 

The religious sense of the Jewish people had fallen so 
low that it was evident on all sides, even among the 
priestly caste and the high priests of the Law. It was 
surely high time that the Son of God should come to 
dissipate these noxious mists of a perverted religious 
sentiment, whose direct consequences were to be seen 


50 THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 

in the corruption of morals among all classes of the 
people. 

As might be expected, the Sadducees were on good 
terms with the Romans, while the Pharisees detested the 
pagan conquerors of their country. Both parties, however, 
seemed to be in agreement about one thing, in fact all the 
world was of the same mind, that the time of the Christ, 
the great Messias, was near. The Great Council of the 
Sanhedrim was full of this expectation, clearly foretold 
in the sacred writings of the Prophets. But, as was to be 
expected, all these were interpreted in the sense that the 
Messias was to come as the glorious head of a liberated 
Hebrew nation, which, finally freed from the yoke of the 
stranger, should dominate all the peoples of the earth. 

But when Jesus appeared before them and walked 
among them as a great Prophet, they ridiculed the idea, 
or even the possibility, of such a Messias. In fact, they not 
only ridiculed Him, but they hated Him with all the 
powers of their soul, chiefly, of course, because He un¬ 
masked their hypocrisy and revealed the viciousness of 
their hearts and the falsity of their doctrines. The more 
wonderful His works, the more obvious His miracles, the 
more they feared and detested Him, and they watched 
with jealous eyes the growing favor in which He was held 
by the poor and the multitude. 

His novel interpretation of the Law and the Scriptures 
made them suspect Him as a dangerous innovator, very 
far, indeed, from their idea of the Christus, the Messias, 
Who naturally was of quite another character in their 
minds. They had the fixed idea that the Messias was to 


ON MOUNT SION 


51 


be a great captain, a king who would free their nation from 
the hated yoke of the Romans. This young Prophet 
promised nothing of the kind, and, as they saw His influ¬ 
ence growing in leaps and bounds, they began to feel that 
He would compromise them with the Roman authorities 
and thus aggravate their present condition. “Si dimitti¬ 
mus eum sic, omnes credent in eum; et venient Romani, 
et tollent nostrum locum, et gentem.” (St. John xi, 48.) 
And since the high priests knew that this desire of libera¬ 
tion from the yoke of Rome was universal among the 
people, they used this suspicion to excite the multitude 
against Christ. And here we may quote the words of St. 
Augustine, who says: “To purchase the favor of Rome 
they lost everything, the redemption, their country, 
their very nationality.” 

True, they had seen with their very eyes the miracles 
and the wonderful prodigies of the Master, but in the face 
of that they did what is done even in our day. They 
explained them away; they surrounded them with a thou¬ 
sand doubts and criticisms. In vain Our Lord had said 
to them repeatedly: “The works that I do in the name of 
My Father, they give testimony of Me.” (St. John x, 25.) 
“If I do not the works of My Father, believe Me not. 
But if I do, though you will not believe Me, believe the 
works; that you may know and believe that the Father 
is in Me, and I in the Father.” (St. John x, 37, 38.) 

What words could be more convincing than these? 
But when the passions of men are aroused and rule their 
very souls, they neither see nor hear correctly and so truth 
finds no path clear to the intelligence and the heart. 


52 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Thus Isaias predicted long ago and thus Our Blessed 
Lord Himself had spoken: “Hearing you shall hear 
and shall not understand; and seeing you shall see and 
shall not perceive.” (St. Matthew xm, 14.) From the 
Sanhedrim, the high tribunal of the Law, composed of 
such elements, moved by such motives, filled with a 
hatred against the Master, what justice could ever be 
expected in His regard? It was a court which, as we 
would say, was clearly liable to exception, formed as it 
was of judges unfit to judge because of prejudice. 

After Christ had restored Lazarus to life, the members 
of the Sanhedrim gathered in secret council and decided 
upon a plot to get rid both of the Master and of Lazarus 
and thus bury forever the memory of this hated Galilean. 
Indeed, it was Caiphas, himself, who was the chief agi¬ 
tator of this horrible plot against Christ, for it was he 
who gave out the decision: “It is expedient for you that 
one man should die for the people, that the whole nation 
perish not.” (St. John xi, 50.) It had been decided, 
therefore, that Christ should be sacrificed for the public 
good, and this decision came from these same judges who 
now were to hear His case. In a word, He had been ad¬ 
judged guilty and sentenced to death even before His 
case was placed before them. 

These were the judges of Christ! What a mockery of 
justice! Though they had decided that He should die, 
yet astutely enough they did not wish to kill Him on the 
great Festival of the Pasch for fear that it might arouse 
the people to a tumult. (St. Matthew xxvi, 5.) Never¬ 
theless, when, two days before the Feast of the Passover, 


ON MOUNT SION 


53 


the traitor Judas came to them secretly and offered to 
deliver Him into their hands, they suddenly changed 
their minds; and so, when Judas returned on the 14th 
Nisan urging them to hurry the affair, they decided to 
expedite the matter in such a way that the judgment, 
the sentence of death and the execution should take place 
before the great Sabbath of the Passover. Now there was 
no time to lose, for the great feast day was only twenty- 
four hours away. 

The Mosaic law prohibited trial by night or on the vigil 
of a festival day. Nevertheless, Christ was dragged be¬ 
fore the tribunal in the very middle of the night; indeed, 
the night preceding the great Jewish solemnity. There 
was irregularity in all these proceedings. The crime had 
been determined upon and could brook no delay. 

Yet, through all these machinations the designs of 
God are clearly visible. The Jewish Passover was but 
a figure of the Christian Pasch. The blood of the lamb 
had saved the Hebrew people in Egypt from the sword of 
the avenging angel. Every year the chosen people renewed 
the memory of that sacred event. The lamb of the Pass- 
over was but an image of the Immaculate Lamb of God, 
Whose blood would redeem the whole human race. 
Blinded as they were by hatred and by passion, the Syna¬ 
gogue could not see that they were about to actually 
fulfill the prophecies in the sacrifice of the Lamb of God, 
the Messias, Jesus Christ, upon the very day of their 
great Feast of the Passover. 

They were eager to get rid of the Nazarene quietly so 
that the people gathered in such large numbers for the 


54 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Feast might not be aroused and thus give them trouble; 
and behold! they only succeeded in accomplishing just 
what they had striven to avoid, for the sacrifice of the 
Son of God took place before the eyes of the immense 
multitude of Jews gathered from all parts into the great 
Holy City to participate in the solemn Feast. They at¬ 
tempted to arrest Him secretly in the silence of the night, 
and before morning all Jerusalem was ringing with the 
news of the arrest of the Prophet of Galilee. 

A View of Jerusalem 

The vast and populous city was crowded for the Feast, 
and all about the walls was raised a great multitude of 
tents, occupied by those who had come from afar to 
participate in the great festival. Everyone was sleeping 
and silence ruled the night. The high priests, once de¬ 
cided that the Master should be captured and that sen¬ 
tence should be passed upon Him, immediately sent their 
messengers hither and thither to notify the members of 
the Sanhedrim, to summon them to their meeting. Other 
messengers were sent quickly and silently to collect the 
witnesses who were to testify against Christ. There was 
great haste everywhere, and at the same time great 
caution had to be used to give to the whole affair some 
sort of legal appearance in the eyes of the public. 

They were shrewd enough not to expose themselves 
too openly to accusation of flagrant injustice and irreg¬ 
ularity from the followers of the Nazarene; and besides, 
they knew that the Roman Governor would demand 
above all things the fulfillment of the proper legal process. 


ON MOUNT SION 


55 


for it was the province of the Roman authorities, and not 
theirs, to pronounce sentence of death. And so there was 
running here and there through the city; there was knock¬ 
ing at the doors where the scribes and judges lived, and 
stealthy whisperings of secret messages to hasten as 
soon as possible to the hill of Sion, where the court was 
to sit. 

Somehow, notwithstanding these attempts at secrecy 
and furtiveness, the rumor spread from house to house 
that something extraordinary had happened. The silence 
of the night was broken by swift murmurings from lip to 
lip. “What had happened? Something of great impor¬ 
tance had transpired; some crime had been committed; 
some one had been arrested by the guards. Who? A 
great malefactor. But who? Oh, the new Prophet! What! 
Jesus of Nazareth? Ah, that impostor who tried to change 
our laws and our glorious traditions! Yes, but He per¬ 
formed miracles; He had many followers. What will they 
do with Him? ” And so from lip to lip, and from house to 
house, the rumors ran. The friends of Christ were terri¬ 
fied; the enemies of the Nazarene laughed. Below, in the 
quarter Ophel, the people began to gather and to talk in 
whispers, and one could see that here Christ had many 
friends. There were sounds of hurrying footsteps here 
and there. Many doors were opened, and one could 
see in the light of quivering torches the shrouded forms of 
those who now began to mount the hill of Sion, hurrying 
towards the hall of the Sanhedrim. 

Pilate, the Roman Governor, was soon informed of the 
rumors in the city and the rising tumult, and the Roman 


56 THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 

soldiers guarding the city were doubled in strength of 
numbers. ' / 

The Apostles, who had fled at the moment of the Mas¬ 
ter’s capture, wandered in terror hither and thither. This 
one stealthily sought a refuge where he might hide him¬ 
self. Another moved noiselessly from place to place, 
bringing to the followers of the Nazarene the sad news. 
Others gathered their friends in little groups here and 
there and, weeping, endeavored to console each other 
in the thought of the terrible calamity that had hap¬ 
pened. Peter and John, however, though they had left 
Christ when the guards bound Him, still secretly fol¬ 
lowed Him along the way at a discreet distance behind 
Him. 

Doubtless, Mary, the Mother of Jesus, had heard the 
sad news, perhaps from the lips of John, the Beloved 
Disciple. Indeed, some of the mystics think that, while 
Christ was undergoing His agony in the Garden of Geth- 
semane, His Blessed Mother, with a clear presentiment 
of what was passing, suffered with Him and for Him in 
the deep grief of her soul. Since she knew of the solemn 
discourse of Christ in the Cenacle that evening, and since 
she understood that the sad moment predicted by Sim¬ 
eon had arrived, her pure soul felt that the dread hour 
was advancing, and she strengthened her heart to pre¬ 
pare herself for the sword of grief which was to pierce it. 
Soon, at her door came a hurried tapping and she lis¬ 
tened to the whole horrible story of the capture of her Son 
and the barbarous treatment inflicted upon Him by the 
guards and the mob which had surrounded Him. Al- 


ON MOUNT SION 


57 


ready the sharp sword of a terrible suffering had entered 
her gentle and pure heart. 

Many of the pious women who had followed Jesus 
heard from one or another of the Apostles the terrible 
message. Desolation of spirit overcame them all. They 
knew not what to do, or where to go, and they wrung 
their hands as the bitter tears flowed down their quivering 
cheeks. 

Judas, having witnessed the cruel treatment of Christ 
by the mob, already began to feel the dread terrors of 
remorse. Stricken with a deadly fear, fear of himself and 
fear of every man, coward as he was, he yet could not 
tear himself away from the sight of the Divine Victim of 
his treachery, and he, too, followed secretly the path 
taken by the guards along the road up towards Sion. 

In the House of Annas 

The guards who had arrested the Master, arrived at 
the top of the hill of Sion, stopped before the house of 
Annas, perhaps on account of the deference which they 
felt for the old High Priest or perhaps to allow time for 
the members of the Sanhedrim to gather. Annas was well 
pleased that Christ had been brought before him. In 
the body of that old fox was the heart of a tiger, and such 
was his hatred of the Galilean that he was happy to be the 
first to humiliate Him profoundly before consigning Him 
to the ushers of the Great Council. Perchance, too, there 
was in the mind of this cunning priest the thought that 
he might ensnare Him in a trap and thus the better pre¬ 
pare the way for His utter condemnation. He entered the 


58 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


hall with a weary air and with solemnity of countenance 
and authority depicted upon his face, fringed with its long 
white beard. His appearance was calculated to impress 
the general public who so often think only of externals. 
He began at once to interrogate Jesus concerning His 
doctrine and His followers. 

It was altogether irregular, legally, to thus question 
an accused man in such a way as to compel him to be a 
witness against himself. Annas’ trap was set in vain. 
“ Publicly have I spoken before the world,” answered 
Christ. “I have talked in the open places and in the tem¬ 
ple and in secret I have said nothing. Why do you in¬ 
terrogate me? Ask those who heard what I have spoken. 
They know what I have said.” 

From this the Master made it perfectly clear that He 
had no secret doctrines to propagate and no plots or 
conspiracies to contrive. He had lived His whole life and 
had spoken what He had to say in the broad light of day. 
The answer of Jesus made all this perfectly clear to the 
High Priest and there was no way out of it. But Annas 
was too clever not to realize that he had begun badly. 

It was a public, legal blunder and his pride was smitten 
by the retort of Christ. Everyone was silent. No one 
dared to answer the Master, for they had seen often 
enough the futility of an attempt to contradict Him. 
But the silence was too humiliating to endure. Brute 
force was the only method left to them, and so one of 
the officials of the court, stepping forward, gave Jesus 
a blow in the face, saying: “Answerest Thou the High 
Priest so? ” (St. John xvm, 22.) Now the law prohibited 


ON MOUNT SION 


59 


absolutely such insults to those on trial and punished 
such actions when they happened; but in the case of Je¬ 
sus everything was legal, every license was legalized. The 
Master, not willing to lie under the imputation of having 
been lacking in respect to the High Priest, turning to¬ 
wards him who had struck Him, said, in a calm voice: 
4 ‘If I have spoken evil, give testimony of the evil, but if 
well, why strikest thou Me?” Such patience, such calm 
and noble endurance, such a perfectly just question to 
one who had been so unjust to Him! 

By these words the accusation of disrespect to the High 
Priest was demolished, and by His calm attitude and noble 
words Christ humiliated all the more both the villain who 
had treated Him so outrageously and the judge who had 
allowed such utterly illegal action in his presence. Utterly 
confused by the noble and dignified attitude of the Gali¬ 
lean, Annas realized the futility of continuing the case, 
so he gave orders to bind the Master with cords, and this, 
too, contrary to the laws which obligated the judges to 
respect the liberty of the accused. And thus bound, 
Annas sent Him to the house of Caiphas, where already 
had gathered the members of the Sanhedrim. (St. 
Matthew xxvi, 57.) 

As every incident in the Passion of Our Blessed Lord 
has been meditated upon for centuries by holy souls, and 
as no part of this sad story is ever considered trivial, the 
question has been asked: “Who was it that struck Our 
Lord as He stood before Annas?” St. Chrysostom writes 
that it was the same Malchus whom Peter had struck 


60 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


with his sword in the Garden of Gethsemane. The Saered 
Text of the Evangelist says nothing concerning this, but 
there is this to be noted, that the one wdiose ear Peter 
cut off with his sword is called a servant of the High 
Priest, that is, a slave, whereas the one who struck Jesus 
in the house of Annas is called an assistant of the minis¬ 
ters, and, therefore, one of the officials of the court. 

We note this merely in passing, and we can only hope 
that Malchus, whose ear had been healed by the touch 
of Christ, did not so soon forget the goodness of his 
Benefactor. But what were the sentiments which agi¬ 
tated the soul of this insolent assistant to the tribunal 
when he heard the calm and sweet but utterly just an¬ 
swer of Christ to him? St. John Chrysostom affirms ex¬ 
pressly that the grace of God entered his soul with these 
words of Christ and opened his eyes to the light of divine 
truth. 

In the house of Annas the faithful later erected a chapel 
in honor of the Holy Angels, and St. Quaresmius, in his 
celebrated work on the Holy Land, published in 1626, 
says that he had read in a very ancient document that 
this chapel was built and dedicated to the Holy Angels, 
because these spirits of God, who accompanied Christ 
everywhere, covered their faces in shame when the offi¬ 
cial of the court gave Christ the blow in the face. 

To-day this place is in the possession of the Armenians, 
once Catholics, now schismatics. They have their cathe¬ 
dral near by, on the spot where the Apostle, James the 
Greater, was beheaded. 


ON MOUNT SION 


61 


The House of Caiphas 

On the hill of Sion between the house of Annas and the 
Cenacle was situated the house of the High Priest Cai¬ 
phas. This, too, is now in the possession of the schismatic 
Armenians. At the present time these two houses are 
separated from one another by the wall of Jerusalem, 
but in the time of Our Lord they were joined by pretty 
groves and pleasant gardens. That the house of Caiphas 
was situated here is a constant tradition which has come 
down to us certainly from the time of the Crusades, and 
is to-day generally admitted as true. 

At the present time there is situated upon this spot a 
little church dedicated to St. Peter, or rather to the Pen¬ 
itence of St. Peter, and in an angle in the wall one sees 
a grotto called “The Prison of the Lord.” Indeed, it is 
well understood that between the first and the second 
trial of Christ before Caiphas He was put into a cell and 
kept there a prisoner during the interval. There is some 
discussion still as to the exact site of the house of Cai¬ 
phas, but all agree that, if it was not on this particular 
spot, it was, nevertheless, very near it. 

This dwelling followed the usual style of such houses in 
the Orient. It was arranged about two courtyards, sur¬ 
rounded with porticoes, onto which the windows and doors 
opened. The first courtyard was given over to the serv¬ 
ants and the slaves and the strangers; the second, raised 
above it by a few steps and entered through a large door, 
was reserved for the habitation of the High Priest, where 
was situated the great hall of the Sanhedrim. In the midst 


62 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


of the first and outer courtyard was a great fireplace in the 
open air, in which a fire usually burned when the season 
was cold, and about this fireplace the servants and slaves 
were accustomed to gather to warm themselves. The 
gate of the entrance to the house was guarded by a female 
slave (ancilla ostiaria), and this door opened upon a large 
hall, the vestibule, so-called, through which, by another 
door, one entered into the first or lower courtyard. Thus 
in brief and in a very general way is described the house 
of Caiphas. 


Christ before Caiphas 

In the great hall of the house of Caiphas the Sanhedrim 
had already gathered when Jesus arrived. We may be 
quite sure that those few members of the Council who 
were known to favor Christ had not been invited to at¬ 
tend on this occasion. In fact, as the Sacred Text tells 
us, the condemnation of Christ was unanimous. The 
mystic, Catherine Emmerich, affirms that Caiphas re¬ 
ceived the Master with words of scorn and upbraided Him 
for the disturbance He had caused him on so holy a night. 
At the sight of Christ a low murmur of disdain passed 
over the assembly, which augured little hope of justice. 
Upon the faces of the high priests and the old men who 
surrounded them one could read all the signs of a dread 
hatred. No place here for justice or mercy. These were 
not judges, but murderers! 

In the middle of the great hall stood Christ. The 
pallor of death was on His sacred countenance, and be¬ 
hind His back His hands were tied with rough cords. 


ON MOUNT SION 


63 


About Him were the guards, near by were the notaries 
and students of the law, and in the rear of the hall were 
the servants of the court and a motley crowd of the curi¬ 
ous, wdio had come to see what they could of the spectacle. 

First the witnesses were caUed. As they testified one 
after the other, it w r as perfectly clear that they contra¬ 
dicted each other, time and again, and, in fact, frequently 
contradicted themselves. (St. Mark xiv, 56.) 

Towards the end two witnesses stepped forth who said: 
“He said, and we have heard Him say: ‘I can destroy 
this temple and in three days I can rebuild it. ’ ” One of 
them said that Christ’s words were: “I can destroy”; 
the other said that His words were: “I shall destroy.” 
The fact is that the words of Christ, narrated by St. 
John, were: “Destroy this temple and in three days I 
shall rebuild it.” In other words, not He, but others 
should be the cause of the destruction. In reality He 
had spoken, not of the material temple of the Jews, but 
of His own Body, foretelling thus His Resurrection. 
And it is perfectly clear now that the Pharisees and the 
whole Sanhedrim understood well what Christ meant by 
those words, for after His death they placed a guard at 
His sepulchre, recalling precisely these words as pre¬ 
dicting the Resurrection of Christ after His death. 

The First and Second Denials of St. Peter 

While the foregoing scene was taking place in the hall 
of the Sanhedrim, something quite different was happen¬ 
ing in the courtyard outside. Peter and John, after 
having followed at some distance the footsteps of Our 


64 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Blessed Lord, came quietly into the house of the High 
Priest. John, knowing the place and the people there, went 
into the house, but Peter stood outside at the gateway. 
John, noticing that Peter had not followed him into the 
house, came out again and made a sign to the servant at 
the door to allow Peter to enter. Coming into the court¬ 
yard he went and sat down among the servants and 
strangers who were gathered about the fire in the middle 
of the courtyard, for that night was very cold. 

Poor Peter, he was so utterly confused that he scarcely 
knew what he was doing. So many things had happened 
in so brief a space that he seemed benumbed and almost 
stupefied. For the moment, at least, he had forgotten 
the solemn warning of Christ. It was bitter cold without, 
and his heart was colder still with fear and anxiety, and 
so he huddled with the others about the fireplace, hoping 
silently to see what would happen to the Master. Where 
now was he, Peter who had boasted that he would go 
with Christ even unto death? Poor Peter, full of natural 
affection and impetuosity, but mindful so little of his own 
weakness, which soon began so to betray him! 

Just then one of the servants who guarded the entrance, 
struck by the expression of his sad face in the light of the 
fire, grew suspicious, and, turning to him, she said: “Are 
you one of the followers of this Man?” And, tur nin g to 
the others about the fire, she said to them in a loud voice: 
“Why, certainly this man was with the Nazarene.” And 
Peter, at once off guard, quickly answered: “No, no, I 
know Him not. I understand not at all what you say.” 
Here was a denial, direct, absolute. He began to feel the 


ON MOUNT SION 


65 


embarrassment of his position. He stood up and, going 
out of the door, stopped in the vestibule, and the cock 
crew for the first time. (St. Mark xiv, 68.) Covered 
with confusion, he thought that here he would escape 
all notice, but he only went from one danger to another. 
Very soon another servant of the house set eyes upon him. 
His fear only made her all the more suspicious. She 
watched him closely, and soon she, too, exclaimed: “You 
were with Jesus of Nazareth ”; and a man standing near, 
hearing the servant, echoed her words: “Are you one of 
the followers of this Man?” For the second time Peter 
denied the Lord, this time with an oath. He attempted 
to escape the importunate questionings of the maid and 
the man, and he wandered about through the house, still 
unable to go away from the presence of Christ. 

Poor Peter, what a pitiable spectacle! He loved the 
Master dearly, but somehow, with all his love, he was 
weak when the trial came. His impetuosity of character 
was constantly placing him in danger of himself; he 
seemed never to understand the peril of the situation into 
which he rushed. He knew that his own love was strong, 
but he counted too much upon himself; and so he fell, 
as everyone falls who confides too much in his own 
strength and exposes himself rashly to danger. 

The First Condemnation of Christ 

The chattering of the witnesses with their continual 
contradictions left Christ still silent before His judges. 
The majestic calm of that silence, the pity which His 
position inspired, made a solemn impression upon the 


66 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


crowd that had gathered within the hall, and murmurs 
of sympathy began to be heard among them. But Caiphas 
was on the watch, and, quick to detect the growing senti¬ 
ment in favor of Christ, he suddenly arose and came and 
stood before Him. Christ’s silence was a torture to the 
High Priest. He was determined to break it: “Answerest 
Thou nothing to the things that are laid to Thy charge 
by these men?” (St. Mark xiv, 60.) 

How utterly bereft of shame must he have been to take 
such a step, which was clearly against every canon of the 
law, which prescribed that, when the witnesses contra¬ 
dicted each other, nothing was proved and the accused 
should be dismissed. But there was no thought in the 
mind of Caiphas to dismiss the Galilean; so, like An¬ 
nas, he determined to provoke Him to discussion, which 
might at least compromise Him before the crowd. To the 
words of Caiphas Christ listened, but gave no answer. 
‘Mile autem tacebat.” (St. Mark xiv, 61.) At last a 
sudden light dawned upon the mind of Caiphas. Had not 
the Nazarene pretended to be the Messias? If only he 
could provoke Him now to make that same declaration, 
He would be at once condemned as a blasphemer. At all 
costs, therefore, he determined thus to trap the Master. 

Now the law prohibited this method of procedure and 
punished it with a sentence of nullity; but what cared 
Caiphas for the law when it stood in the way of his own 
purposes? And so, taking his solemn stand and assuming 
great majesty of pose, he put his demand according to the 
sacred formula which no Jew could ever ignore. Raising 
both hands towards Heaven, he said to the Nazarene: 


ON MOUNT SION 


67 


“I adjure Thee by the living God, tell me, art Thou the 
Christ, the Son of God?” Mark well the words. No 
doubt he intended to say: “Dost Thou pretend to be the 
Christ?” But as if against his own will he put the direct 
question: “Art Thou the Christ?” 

Over the great hall reigned a profound silence. Scarcely 
a breath was heard, and all the eyes of those present were 
fixed upon the young Prophet standing there before the 
High Priest, immobile, pallid, His clear eyes fixed upon 
Caiphas. Calmly, with a voice ineffably grave and solemn 
He answered: “Thou hast said it. I am He. Indeed, I 
say to thee that one day thou shalt see the Son of Man 
at the right hand of the power of God coming in the clouds 
of Heaven.” 

At last! At last! The answer, direct and clear, had 
been given. There could be no further room for misunder¬ 
standing. Jesus, the Son of Man, called Himself also 
God. Chained and bound before His human judges He 
wished to speak to them and prefigure to them the last 
judgment of all, when He, coming upon the clouds of 
Heaven, should be the final Judge from Whom there 
was no appeal. The boldness of this open profession, so 
sublime, was equaled only by the perfect calm and abso¬ 
lute sureness with which it was spoken. A thrill of con¬ 
sternation passed over the whole assembly. They felt 
profoundly that they were face to face with something 
supremely solemn which no words could express. 

Caiphas, though for the moment confounded, soon 
recovered and came back to his predetermined line of 
action. Standing in open court he gave vent to the most 


68 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


unseemly exhibition of anger, and seizing violently his 
priestly robes he tore them into shreds. This was the 
dramatic signal of horror at hearing words of blasphemy 
against God. “He hath blasphemed!” he cried in rage. 
“What further need have we of witnesses? Behold, now 
you have heard the blasphemy: what think you?” (St. 
Matthew xxvi, 65-66.) Roused by the words and action 
of Caiphas, the Council, recovering from the surprise 
with which Christ’s declaration had for the moment 
shocked them, arose and filled the hall with shouts: “He 
is guilty of death!” 

Thus the sentence was passed. Christ was condemned 
to death as a blasphemer for having said in truth that 
which He was, that which He had always declared Him¬ 
self to be, that which all His prodigies and works had 
proved Him to be. All the testimony against Him had 
failed utterly. That was too clear even to the eyes of 
the conspirators themselves; but now He had testified 
against Himself by declaring clearly and unmistakably 
that He was the Man-God. 

Thus Christ became Himself the first Confessor of the 
new faith and was soon to become its first Martyr. Let 
us bow our heads and our hearts before the Son of God 
made Man for our redemption, and full of faith and love 
let us adore Him Whom the angels adored. 

“He is guilty of death!” (St. Matthew xxvi, 66.) As 
this cry arose on all sides, the assembly abandoned them¬ 
selves to the most brutal exhibitions of savage cruelty. 
Rushing from their places to where Jesus stood calmly 
and imperturbably in the midst of the hall, they seized 


ON MOUNT SION 


69 


upon their patient Victim. Up to that time He had been 
in a certain way under the protection of the majesty of 
the law, but now nothing could protect Him further. The 
law had been fulfilled and the sentence passed. Now He 
was no longer the accused, but the condemned. Their faces 
were distorted with anger; they surrounded Him shouting 
ineffable insults; they spat in His face and rained blow 
upon blow upon His tender frame. (St. Mark xiv, 65.) 

Let us close our eyes at the sight of this horrible spec¬ 
tacle. 

Soon their brutality turned to derision and scorn. 
They bandaged His eyes and covered His face, and then, 
striking Him with their clenched fists, they shouted: 
“O Christ! now guess who has struck Thee. Prophesy! 
Prophesy! Thou Who callest Thyself the Christ.” 

According to the law of Christian civilization, even the 
condemned is in a way sacred under the law: “Res sacra 
reus.” But with the Jews, one condemned to death, es¬ 
pecially as a blasphemer, became at once the target of 
every insult and injury that could be heaped upon him. 
Indeed, according to the doctrines of the Synagogue it 
was prohibited for anyone to feel any compassion for him 
whatever. For months the princes and the high priests 
had been forced to hide the fearful rage they felt against 
Jesus, and their anger mounted and mounted until it be¬ 
came a terrific strain upon them to conceal it. Now they 
need conceal it no longer, and they turned upon Him, 
defenseless and innocent as He was, the whole dreadful 
torrent of their brutal wrath. 


70 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


The Third Denial of St. Peter 

It is quite possible, indeed, probable, that both Peter 
and John had by this time entered the hall of the San¬ 
hedrim and were present at the condemnation of Christ. 
Doubtless, too, the Beloved Disciple at that moment was 
thinking of the grief of the Master's Holy Mother, Mary, 
and so, trembling with horror, yet impelled by a sacred 
sentiment of duty, he glided out of the house of Caiphas 
and, staggering, went with labored steps to convey the 
sad news to Mary. 

Peter, dazed at the awful spectacle, felt himself pulled 
hither and thither by the impulses of his heart. He could 
not make up his mind entirely to go away from the dread¬ 
ful scene, and yet he could stand no longer the awful sight 
of the cruelty now hurled against the Master. And so, 
groping his way out of the hall, he wandered about the 
courtyard, and finally, overcome by fatigue and weakness, 
again he went back to warm himself at the fire, around 
which the rabble had gathered, waiting, as the rabble 
always does, with the expectation of curiosity to know 
what was happening within. 

It is strange how little, at times, experience guides us 
in our actions! Peter certainly should have remembered 
what had happened at that very place only a short time 
before, but it is safe to say that he scarcely knew what he 
was doing. He wanted to go and he wanted to stay. He 
was torn between both desires. And while he was thus 
seized with a sort of stupor, he heard one of the men 
near him say in a loud voice: “You are a Galilean, one 


ON MOUNT SION 


71 


of those followers of the Nazarene.” Evidently Peter 
began to mutter some words of half explanation, and, as 
soon as those about the fire heard him speak, they began 
to laugh and taunt him, saying: “Oh, certainly you are a 
Galilean. Your very speech betrays you.” 

It was well known among the Jews that the Galileans 
had an accent of their own, and they dressed, besides, in 
a manner different from the rest of the nation. Confused 
even more by this discovery, Peter, still on .the de¬ 
fensive, began to manifest his irritation and, no doubt, 
also his fear of the rabble about him. “I know nothing 
of this Man,” he said. “I know Him not. I am no fol¬ 
lower of His.” But he could not escape so easily as this. 
The crowd now began to gather around him, seeing that 
some disturbance was taking place, and among that 
group was one of the band who had come out with swords 
and sticks to seize the Master. Pushing through the little 
crowd around Peter, he at once recognized him as the one 
who had struck off the ear of the servant of the High 
Priest. Planting himself before the face of Peter, he 
looked at him wfith scorn and said: “You do not know 
this Man? You are no follower of His? What do you 
mean? Did I not see you in the garden with Him?” 

And now, completely overcome by the terror of the 
situation in which he found himself, he lost all control of 
himself and, with his usual impetuosity, began to swear 
with an oath that he knew nothing of this Man, that he 
was no follower of His, and this he repeated vigorously 
several times, swearing as he spoke. 

Just at that time the guards, tired of raining their 


72 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


fierce blows upon the Master, led Him out into the court¬ 
yard, in the midst of which Peter stood, still wrangling 
with the rabble about him and denying his Master. The 
soldiers were now leading Jesus across the courtyard 
towards the cell in which He would be held until the 
second trial, prescribed by the Jewish law; for before this 
second trial no criminal could be condemned to death 
legally. 

As the guards, with Christ in their midst, left the hall 
and entered the courtyard, the rabble and the curiosity- 
seekers gathered around Peter were quick to notice what 
was happening, and instantly all eyes were riveted upon 
the Victim as He passed them. Jesus, pallid as death with 
weakness and oppressed by the awful weight of the sad¬ 
ness which bore Him down, the traces of the spittle of the 
soldiers still upon His Sacred Face, His clothing rent and 
disordered, passed through the courtyard in the midst of 
the murmurs and chattering of the rabble. 

Peter, the oath of denial still upon his lips, raised his 
eyes, too, to see what was passing, and, oh, the sight that 
met his eyes! “And immediately the cock crew again.” 
(St. Mark xiv, 72.) And as it crowed the Master turned 
and looked at Peter. “Et conversus Dominus respexit 
Petrum.” (St. Luke xxn, 61.) It was about three o’clock 
in the morning. At the sound of the crowing of the cock, 
at the sight of that glance of the Master, a thrill of horri¬ 
ble remorse shook Peter, mind and soul and body. That 
moment would remain forever indelible in the soul of the 
Prince of the Apostles. 

In that glance of Jesus, Peter could read volumes. It 


ON MOUNT SION 


73 


was the most potent reproach, bringing terror to the 
heart, but it was at the same time a reproach filled with 
tenderness and sweetness, bringing, with the terror, the 
divine grace of remorse and sorrow; a remorse and sorrow 
which, until he gave his life up for the Master, was never 
absent from his mind and his heart. 

Torn with an immense anguish, he remembered now 
the words of Christ: “This night, before the cock crow 
twice, thou slialt deny Me thrice.” O God, what a terrible 
sin! He had abandoned his adorable Master, He Whom 
he had loved so much. He Whom he had believed to be 
the Son of God. At the thought of his infamous crime 
he was seized with a mortal terror. But this terror did not 
bring with it the added sin of despair. Oh! no, for in that 
moment of shame he remembered those other words of 
Christ when He told him that He had prayed for him 
that, being once converted, his faith should never again 
fail. And that tender and benign expression upon the 
face of the Master, even as He looked at Peter with a 
gentle rebuke, was it not full of hope and mercy? 

A tumult of various thoughts filled his mind. His own 
shame, his perfidy, his abandonment of Christ over¬ 
whelmed him. Yet at the same time the sight of Christ’s 
tender face assured him of forgiveness. Torn with grief 
and sorrow and shame at the thought of his Master’s 
infinite goodness and his own ineffable infidelity, he 
sobbed until his frame shook with emotion and a torrent 
of tears flooded his eyes. The thought of his own rashness 
in exposing himself to danger was now clear to him and 
he rushed out across the courtyard into the street with 


74 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


only one thought in his mind, to fly from it all, to get 
away from the horror which obsessed him, to leave this 
awful crowd, this mean and vulgar rabble, this house of 
injustice and cruelty, and to wander far and away, far, 
and ever farther from men, to find some solitary place 
where he could weep the bitter tears of repentance, and 
make amends in some way for his awful crime. 

He saw now that the cause of it all was his own miser¬ 
able impetuosity, his foolish conceit in his own strength. 
Now he saw his utter weakness, and he realized now to 
the full the meaning of those words of his Master: 
“Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation.” 

At the southern extremity of the hill of Sion, on the 
side towards the east, the early Christians erected a little 
chapel to which they gave the name of St. Peter, “In 
Galli Cantu”; and the tradition runs that in a grotto 
near by this place Peter abandoned himself to the full¬ 
ness of his grief. 

When Jesus was led across the courtyard, He was im¬ 
prisoned in a cell to await there His second trial. That 
would not be until early morning, so there were still a few 
hours to wait. But oh, what long hours these were! 


CHAPTER VI 

• % . . 

THE SECOND JUDGMENT OF THE SANHEDRIM 

Once locked in the prison house the guards had the 
Master at their mercy. They were a cruel lot at best, 
so we may well imagine what sort of mercy they showed 
Christ. 

Though the Evangelists make no mention of it, it is a 
perfectly well-authenticated tradition that these savage 
soldiers amused themselves during the rest of the night 
by binding Christ to a column and then offering Him 
every sort of ill treatment. Concerning this column of the 
flagellation on Sion there are extant well-authenticated 
documents giving clear testimony to this part of the 
Passion. 

The Pilgrim of Bordeaux in the year 333 records that, 
passing from the Cenacle, he went to the house of Caiphas 
and there venerated the column to which Christ had been 
bound and then beaten. St. Sylvia, whose itinerary was 
lately discovered in the library of Arezzo, narrates that 
at some tim% about the year 350, she assisted at the func¬ 
tions of Holy Week in Jerusalem, and she goes on to 
describe that on Good Friday, after the Mass of the 
Cross celebrated very early in the morning, the pilgrims 
went up to Sion to pray before the column to which 
Christ had been bound during His flagellation. 

We have, too, the testimony of St. Jerome about the 
year 404, who, in his letter to Eustachius called “The 


76 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Epitaph of Paula,” narrates in detail the journey of this 
noble Roman matron to the Holy Land. Thus he writes: 
“From the hill Moria she went up to Mount Sion, where 
is the fortress of King David. There she saw a column 
supporting the portico of the church, and this column 
was the one to which the Lord had been bound during 
His flagellation, the traces of blood still being visible 
upon it. She then went to the place where the Spirit of 
God had descended upon the disciples gathered therein, 
that is to say, the Cenacle.” 

It is clear from this description that the church where 
the holy column of the flagellation was situated was 
entirely distinct from the Cenacle. It would seem to fol¬ 
low from this that the chapel here alluded to, where the 
column had been placed, was that dedicated to St. Peter, 
erected by the first Christians in the house of Caiphas. 
It may seem strange that this sacred column should be 
used to support the portico of a church, but evidently in 
the construction of this church the faithful utilized all the 
columns of the courtyard of Caiphas, and among them 
was this one also. 

We have, besides this, the testimony of the so-called 
Anonymous of Piacenza, otherwise known as the martyr 
Antonine. In this itinerary, written about the year 570, 
we read: “Going up to Sion we find the house of Caiphas, 
the High Priest, and there still is the column to which 
Christ had been bound during His flagellation.” 

It is, therefore, historically certain that there was on 
Mount Sion a column venerated as that to which Christ 
had been bound during the flagellation, but we must not 


SECOND JUDGMENT OF THE SANHEDRIM 77 


confound this one with the column of scourging in the 
prsetorium. They are two distinct columns and both 
were held in great reverence for centuries. It appears that 
this column found on Sion in the house of Caiphas was 
afterwards broken into various pieces, and some of these 
fragments, about the year 1550, were sent by the Custo¬ 
dian of the Holy Land to various princes in Europe, to 
Pope Paul IV, to the Emperor, to Philip II of Spain, and 
to the Republic of Venice, for the purpose of interesting 
them in the liberation of the holy places. 

And so tradition makes it clear that among the other 
insults and injuries offered to Our Blessed Lord during 
that sad night of His Passion was also this one of being 
tied, bound to a pillar and cruelly scourged. 

Finally the sun rose and the great day predicted by 
the Prophets, expected for centuries, and established 
from all eternity by the justice and mercy of God, the 
day of the great expiation and of our deliverance, at last 
arrived. On that eventful day, unique in history, was to 
triumph the adorable Son of God on earth. On that day 
Hell trembled and the gates of Heaven were opened for 
all men of good will. 

The Master, still bound to a column in His prison cell, 
though overcome with suffering and weakness, looked 
out upon the dawning day and, trembling, saluted it. His 
heart was filled with sorrow in anticipation of all the 
insult and injury that the day would bring Him. Still a 
smile spread over His Sacred Countenance at the sight of 
the rising sun, and He longed, even as He longed to eat 


78 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the Pasch with His disciples, for the completion of His 
divine mission on earth. 

Meanwhile, the household of Caiphas began to wake 
and the whole place felt the stir of life again, and one 
could hear the patter of footsteps on the stones of the 
courtyard. The guards, the ministers of the court, and 
the soldiers were gathering in the great hall again for the 
second judgment. The first trial, carried on precipitously 
in the night, was palpably illegal, and the people would 
soon discover that for themselves. But the second trial 
in the calm of the early morning, after time for reflection, 
would not have this same appearance of illegality. 

The Jewish law forbade the court to sentence anyone 
to death upon a single trial. A second one was always 
required on the following day. So these actors, desirous 
to preserve at least the forms of legality, though in sub¬ 
stance they had violated it, decided to have the second 
trial in the early morning, pretending that the first trial 
had taken place the night before, whereas in reality it was 
only a few short hours before they assembled for the 
second tribunal. And why were they so eager to preserve 
the appearances of legality when in reality they were only 
too eager to dispense with all legal formalities and to get 
rid of this “impostor” who caused such tumult among 
the people? 

First of all, they knew very well the dread consequences 
that would follow an illegal condemnation to death. 
They pretended to care little for the people, but in reality 
they feared them intensely, and they knew that Jesus had 
some followers of great influence. But, besides that, there 


SECOND JUDGMENT OF THE SANHEDRIM 79 


was even a more potent reason which made them careful 
of the legality of their acts. They knew that up there in 
the fortress of Antonia w T as the Roman Governor wdtli his 
cohorts, and Rome then, as always, stood firmly and 
rigidly for all the formalities of the law. And since they 
had to go to the Roman Governor to obtain the execu¬ 
tion of their sentence, they were shrewd enough to pave 
the way for that permit by the observance of all the legal 
forms. So the Sanhedrim gathered once more to carry out 
the formalities of the second trial of the Master. 

Just where did this second meeting take place? Was 
it in the house of Caiphas or in the hall of the Sanhedrim? 
St. Luke says: “And as soon as it was day, the ancients 
of the people and the chief priests and scribes came 
together; and they brought Him into their Council.” 
(St. Luke xxn, 66.) The seat of the Sanhedrim, up to 
forty years before the destruction of Jerusalem, w'as in the 
marble palace called Gazith, contiguous to the temple on 
its south side. 

In that year the tribunal was transferred to another site 
below the temple in a palace of the Tyropceon, not far 
from the praetorium. Some writers, as Ollivier and Meis- 
termann, think that it was here that the second trial of 
Christ took place. Still one may well doubt this opinion, 
inasmuch as the place of the council could also have been 
in the house of Caiphas. 

In fact St. John clearly says: “They led Jesus from 
Caiphas to the governor’s hall.” (St. John xviii, 28.) It 
is clear from this that they left the house of Caiphas to 
go to the praetorium. In the house of Caiphas, therefore. 


80 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the second trial took place. This opinion seems the more 
natural and conforms more readily to tradition and can 
easily be reconciled with the words of St. Luke. 

And now we see Christ once more standing before 
this mockery of a court. Putting aside every formality, 
Caiphas went straight to the point, the same point which 
the night before he had found such a convenient plot to 
trap the Master. “Tell us,” he says — and we can hear 
the cruelty of his voice, we can see the proud violence of 
his countenance — “tell us, art Thou the Christ?” The 
Master, still calm, with a level voice answered, remem¬ 
bering well what had happened when He answered this 
same question only a few hours ago: “If I shall tell you, 
you will not believe Me, and if I shall also ask you, you 
will not answer Me nor let Me go.” Here Christ clearly 
referred to the prophecies regarding the Messias, which 
they were supposed to know very well, and which, if they 
opened their eyes, they could see clearly were all verified 
in Him. They were the doctors of the Law. He might 
well put many a question to them which, if they answered 
without guile, would clearly prove His case. But He 
knew, as He tells them, that, even though He asked them 
these questions, they would not answer Him. 

They had only one thought in mind; that was not the 
verification of prophecies, but to get rid of Him at any 
cost. And so to remove from them every excuse of igno¬ 
rance and to impress them at the same time with the 
salutary fear of the consequences of their unjust action. 
He immediately added, as at the time of the first trial: 
“And you shall see the Son of Man sitting on the right 


SECOND JUDGMENT OF THE SANHEDRIM 81 


hand of the power of God” (St. Mark xiv, 62), alluding 
clearly to the final judgment of all men, where at least 
true justice would prevail and not the mockery of mere 
form, as was happening here. 

But nothing could soften their obdurate hearts, and 
Caiphas continued more insolently than ever: “Art 
Thou, therefore, the Son of God?” And Jesus answered: 
“You say it. Iam.” Again the same hypocritical acting; 
again the same wrath as at the former trial. “What 
further need of testimony have we?” they cried. “We 
have heard it from His own mouth.” Note again that, 
unknown to themselves, they were fulfilling the designs of 
God. They did not say: “Do you pretend to be the Son 
of God?” but, “Are you, then, the Son of God?” The 
crowd, now aroused by the greatest curiosity, had entered 
the hall of the tribunal and before them all Christ made 
the solemn affirmation of His Divinity. 

Evidently the words of Christ produced a tremendous 
impression upon these people, and, as the murmuring 
grew louder and louder, the judges, seized with fear, were 
terrified lest there be an uprising among the people by 
which He would be taken out of their hands. They 
suddenly arose, bound the Master and dragged Him 
hurriedly to the praetorium, where Pilate, the Roman 
Governor, presided. 


CHAPTER VII 

THE PR2ETORIUM 

To go from the house of Caiphas to the praetorium it was 
necessary to traverse the most populous portion of the 
Holy City. During the night the news of the capture of 
the great Prophet of Nazareth had spread from lip to lip 
and house to house all over the city. By morning the 
whole population was in great excitement. Jerusalem 
was filled to overflowing with all classes of Jews for the 
Passover. Among them all, there was now only one topic 
of conversation. They had heard the rumors of the con¬ 
demnation of the Master at the first trial, and so, when 
the second trial took place, great crowds of people gathered 
about the place, some friendly to Christ, some hateful, 
others quite indifferent, but all anxious to see how this 
affair would end. 

A procession was formed at the head of which walked 
Annas and Caiphas. After them came the members of the 
Sanhedrim in all the pomp of their office, clothed in their 
priestly robes, hoping thus to impress Pilate with the 
solemnity of the occasion. Then followed the guards and 
the police, and in the midst of these was the Nazarene, 
bound in chains, His clothing in disorder, His face dis¬ 
colored by the blows — truly a sorry sight. 

This cortege was accompanied by a great mass of the 
people, the mob and the rabble of the city. From this 


THE PRiETORIUM 


83 


scum of the population arose the coarsest words of insult 
and the vilest epithets. 

The high priests, as they went along, spoke to the peo¬ 
ple, and by their accusations against the Master sought to 
excite them against Him. “Here is a blasphemer, ,, said 
they. “This is the impostor Who was going to destroy 
our holy temple. Here is the conspirator who plotted to 
deliver Israel into the hands of the Romans.” The crowd, 
hearing these accusations from those whose office they 
had been taught to revere, were aroused to a pitch of 
fanatical hatred. Outrage succeeded outrage. They 
picked up stones on the street and threw them at this 
One, found to be an enemy of their nation, a traitor in 
Israel. 

Oh, the fickleness of the crowd, then as now, always 
and ever! Only a few days ago in these very streets of 
Jerusalem the people had spread palms in His way. They 
had filled the air with shouts of “Hosanna!” They had 
declared Him blessed Who had come in the name of the 
Lord. Where were they all now? Ah, the friends in 
sunshine leave us when the clouds lower about us. 

On the day of the palms they had beheld Him radiant 
and powerful, and the crowd loves the sight of power and 
prosperity. To-day He is bound, deformed and bent with 
weakness, and at the sight of such misery the faith which 
depended on prosperity vanished. How could this man, 
this wretched criminal, be a king and prophet, the Mes- 
sias, the Son of God? It was all too absurd. They 
had been deceived. A few there were who remained 
faithful in misfortune, but, as always, they were a very, 


84 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


very few. The rest, victims of the demagogues who 
knew how to lead them on, went with the current, and 
the applause of yesterday was changed to-day into the 
cry of death. 

It is easy to blame the fickle crowd which yesterday 
raised their voices in His favor and to-day condemned 
Him, but is it very different to-day? Of course, the He¬ 
brew people had no excuse for this perfidy. Under their 
very eyes Christ had wrought His wonderful miracles, the 
wonderful deeds which testify to His Divinity. How could 
they so soon forget? Alas! how often we forget ourselves! 
Many times since then the mob has stoned its Saviour, 
and God sometimes permits such outrages to happen to 
make us realize what a weak thing, what a fickle and unre¬ 
liable thing is popularity, the changing favor of a chang¬ 
ing mood of an ever-changeful populace. 

Abandoned by His own disciples, betrayed by Judas, 
denied by Peter in the midst of that seething crowd filled 
with fanatical hatred, without a single one to raise a hand 
in His defense or utter a word of compassion for this inno¬ 
cent Victim, Jesus was surely at that time utterly alone® 
“ I have trodden the wine press alone and of the Gentiles 
there is not a man with Me.” (Isaias lxiii, 3.) 

The Divine Redeemer of mankind, in the fulfillment of 
the prophecies, stood alone in His dire combat with sin, 
and alone He must face and conquer death. We cannot 
here forget His Blessed Mother and the pious women of 
His little flock who, with the Apostle John, followed the 
footsteps of Jesus, their souls filled with the bitterest an¬ 
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THE PILETORIUM 


85 


The Fortress Antonia and the Pr^etorium 

Let us turn for a moment from this sad narration to a 
description of the place in which these things were happen¬ 
ing. We have them practically before our eyes in the 
writings of ancient authors, especially Josephus Flavius, 
who saw the city and all its wonderful palaces and temples 
in all their splendor, and we can gather much from those 
who have studied the ruins which still exist. Immediately 
to the north of the square of the temple, upon a high rock 
one hundred and ten meters long and sixty meters wide, 
Herod had erected his palace, which was at the same time 
a fortress and a royal dwelling. Josephus Flavius says 
that Herod employed in the building of that place all the 
resources of his genius and all the wealth at his command. 
He hewed down the stone on all sides of the rock so that 
that palace was a castle elevated on high. 

That mass of rock still exists, and above it to-day 
after various transformations have taken place there is a 
large barracks. In the midst of the palace thus situated 
there was a large atrium, or courtyard, and it was here 
that Our Lord was crowned with thorns. To commemo¬ 
rate this the Crusaders erected here a little oratory 
crowned with a cupola, which is still extant. 

At the entrance and exit to the palace Herod had con¬ 
structed two great staircases. One of these on the south 
side led to the square of the temple, and the remains of 
this are still visible. It was on these steps that St. Paul 
later, menaced by the Jews, stood and addressed them. 
(Acts xxii.) The other stairs, the principal exit from the 


86 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


palace, were towards the north and led to the forum of 
Antonia and the public street. 

These stairs still exist and are used to-day as an en¬ 
trance to the barracks, held, until the English took Pales¬ 
tine, by the Turkish soldiers. This stairway is a wide and 
easy ascent cut out of the side of the rock. Herod had 
covered these steps with marble, as Josephus Flavius 
writes, and these are the steps, very probably, known as 
“Scala Santa,” removed later to Rome, according to ven¬ 
erable tradition. The palace of Herod, therefore, was the 
watch-tower of the temple, as the temple was the watch- 
tower of the city. 

When the Roman Governor, on the occasion of popular 
festivals or the Passover, came up from Caesarea to Jeru¬ 
salem, his ordinary residence was the palace of Herod, 
which was called the praetorium, because there the Procu¬ 
rator held his tribunal and gave sentence. 

This palace, however, was only a part of the grandiose 
construction of Herod. At the north of the palace was a 
series of buildings where the cavalry and infantry used to 
lodge, and the whole place was surrounded with a thick 
wall, the remains of which are still visible. From the 
lower part of the city, that is, from the valley called Ty- 
ropoeon, an ancient road climbed along the way under the 
fortress or palace of Herod and then descended on the op¬ 
posite side to the brook Cedron. 

This road still exists and passes under the central arch 
of the antique gate known as the “Arch of the Ecce 
Homo.” On either side of this central gate are two other 
gates. The one on the right is scarcely visible, as it is in- 


THE PRiETORIUM 


87 


eluded in the walls of the house of the Turkish dervishes, 
but the gate on the left, now a part of the Convent of the 
Ladies of Sion, is entirely visible. 

At the time of Christ, just beyond the great gate of the 
fortress Antonia a large square opened out surrounded by 
porticoes, which was used as the lower courtyard of the 
palace, and here the soldiers lodged and took their exer¬ 
cises. The pavement of this courtyard is still visible in 
the cellar of the Convent of the Ladies of Sion. This 
piazza, called also the forum, is undoubtedly the Litho- 
strotos (pavement of stone) of the Gospel, also called in 
Hebrew Gabbatha, that is to say, high place. 

From this piazza, not far from the Arch of the Ecce 
Homo, mounted the great staircase which was the princi¬ 
pal ingress to the palace of Herod. With this description 
before our eyes we will understand more clearly the narra¬ 
tion of the events which took place there. 

The First Trial by Pilate 

It was morning when Christ came to the fortress Anto¬ 
nia, and indeed it was very early in the morning, about 
six o’clock, for the Romans usually began their judicial 
hearings at sunrise. On their part the high priests were 
anxious to start matters early in the morning in order 
that they might finish it all before the evening, when be¬ 
gan the great Sabbath of the Passover; for it was abso¬ 
lutely forbidden to carry on a trial or to put anyone to 
death on the vigil of the Passover. That day was given 
up to the great feast and to rejoicing among the people. 

The solemn cortege with the rabble following came to a 


88 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


halt in the piazza under the palace of Herod, and, pushing 
Jesus forward towards the foot of the great stairway of the 
palace, they did not enter lest they should be contami¬ 
nated by Gentile contact and thus be prevented from eat¬ 
ing the Passover. (St. John xvm, 28.) 

The Jews were prohibited to visit the houses of infidels, 
as they considered that a danger to their faith, but at the 
time which we are describing, the Pharisees and the doc¬ 
tors of the Law had carried this prescription to excess. 
Even to enter the house of a pagan constituted legal un¬ 
cleanness, in which condition the Jew must abstain from 
every act of worship and therefore from taking part in 
the Passover, unless by sacrifice and other rites he was 
purified. 

It is clear, then, -why the high priests and the Sanhe¬ 
drim and the people remained outside in the piazza and 
took care not to enter the palace of Herod, that is, the 
praetorium, because it was now the habitation of an in¬ 
fidel governor named Pilate. Meditating upon this St. 
Augustine cries out: “O hypocrites, who feared to make 
themselves unclean by entering the house of an infidel, 
but who thought little of the foulness of their own guilt! ” 

Pilate, already well informed of what had happened 
during the night, heard the tumult below in the piazza 
and understood that they were clamoring for his presence 
to institute proceedings against the Nazarene, the new 
Prophet. Like a true Roman, for the Romans never need¬ 
lessly wounded the prejudices of their subject peoples, he 
yielded to Jewish custom and "went out on the terrace. 

Standing at the head of the stairs, he dominated the sit- 


THE PRdETORIUM 


80 

uation and was easily visible to all. He looked on coldly 
at the crowd below him, and, little by little, the tumult 
ceased. He saluted with a smile the legionaries who took 
their places around the piazza, for this was an assurance 
that the prestige of Rome would not be lowered with im¬ 
punity. In a moment, he saw just at the foot of the stairs, 
in front of and apart from the crowd, the Man of Whom 
he had heard so much. Jesus stood there pale as death, 
but with the calm of perfect majesty. 

About His neck was bound a chain, and this Pilate well 
knew to be the sign that the prisoner had been condemned 
to death. According to St. Jerome, the criminals guilty of 
such crimes as demanded the death sentence were brought 
before the final judge bound in chains. So the Roman 
Governor understood that the sentence had been already 
passed and they came before him only to demand its exe¬ 
cution. He was keen enough, too, to see that all this gath¬ 
ering of the high priests and the Sanhedrim, coming be¬ 
fore him in person with such solemnity and followed by a 
great crowd of noisy people, was intended to impress him 
with the necessity of his action. It was, in other words, an 
attempt to force his hand. 

Pilate, pagan as he was, a follower of the philosophy 
then in vogue which doubted everything, had one only 
thought: to make his fortune and a successful political ca¬ 
reer. He was not without his good qualities and he read 
human nature fairly well. He knew of the terrible hatred 
of the high priests against the young Prophet of Nazareth, 
and he had plenty of reason to believe that it was through 
envy that they had now brought the Master before him. 


90 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


(St. Matthew xxvn, 18.) Consequently he saw that their 
judgment was little to be relied upon as just. 

Besides, he disliked this attempt to force his hand, and 
his pride, as a Roman, disdained the trick. Both his honor 
and the dignity of his position would not permit him to 
submit to such imposition. So, standing coldly in his 
place, he answered with a level tone and a cold voice the 
high priests clamoring for a sentence of death: “What 
accusation do you bring against this Man?” (St. John 
xvm, 29.) The Jews were thoroughly upset at this de¬ 
mand of Pilate. They answered him in evident resent¬ 
ment: “If He were not a malefactor we would not have 
brought Him here before you.” 

A malefactor! Thus they described Him, Who had so 
often been acclaimed by the crowd; Who had so often 
healed their sick and consoled them in sorrow; WTio had 
always gone about doing good! Yes, it is He Who in 
this sad hour is presented to the Roman Governor as a 
common malefactor. And here St. Augustine, meditating 
upon this, says: “What a consolation to the followers 
and servants of Christ when they, too, are called by the 
same name!” 

The Roman, always keen to the meaning of legal 
phrases, knew at once that the word “malefactor” was so 
generic as to express nothing of guilt and nothing of proof 
of guilt. As a Roman, too, he well knew that, according to 
the Roman law, unless the guilt was proved, the accused 
was set free. “ Actore non probante reus absolvitur.” No 
Roman Governor would dare to ignore or to violate that 
rule. 


THE PR^TORIUM 


91 


But compromise was not unknown to the Romans, and 
so, instead of dismissing the accused, which he should 
have done, he sought to free himself of the embarrassment 
and said to them: “Take Him you and judge Him accord¬ 
ing to your laws.” (St. John xviii, 31.) 

By these words Pilate seemed to wish to indicate to the 
Jews that Jesus at least should not be condemned to 
death, for the Sanhedrim had no power of death in its 
hands; but this was only a weak evasion on the part of Pi¬ 
late, and by leaving Christ in the hands of such fierce ene¬ 
mies he was really guilty of an injustice. 

The high priests saw clearly the drift of Pilate’s words, 
and since they had decreed His death they shouted back: 
“It is not lawful for us to put any man to death,” again re¬ 
vealing in so many words what in reality was their final 
determination. 

Surely for the heads of the Jewish nation to make this 
confession in the open piazza before the representative of 
Caesar was a bitter trial, for in so doing they declared sol¬ 
emnly that the supreme power had passed from the Jews 
into the hands of the Romans. Oh, if only at that moment 
they had remembered the words of their own patriarch, 
Jacob, which they must have read again and again in their 
sacred books: “The sceptre shall not be taken away from 
Juda nor a ruler from his thigh, till he come, that is to be 
sent, and he shall be the expectation of nations.” If they 
had but realized that in this open confession of the loss of 
their power they were indicating clearly that the Messias 
had come, what a terror would have invaded their souls! 

But passion had wiped out all reason and all prophecy, 


92 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


and their hatred for the Nazarene blinded them to the 
clear prediction of His coming. They wanted now but 
one thing, His death; yes, more than that, His death upon 
the cross, the most atrocious and humiliating form of 
death which could be devised; a sentence passed only 
upon slaves and on criminals guilty of the most enormous 
crimes. Thus they hoped at last to bury the very name of 
Jesus in scorn and mockery and to wipe forever from the 
minds of the Jewish people the reputation of the young 
Prophet who now stood before them. 

His death they had decided upon and they had no in¬ 
tention of letting the Roman Governor escape with a mere 
compromise. He alone could give the sentence of death 
and they returned to the combat to compel him to do so. 
They saw that the mere general accusation of malefactor 
had no weight with Pilate, so instantly they began to 
make more specific accusations and of such a kind as 
would certainly make an impression upon the mind of 
a Roman Governor. 

And so they cried: “We have found this Man pervert¬ 
ing our nation and forbidding to give tribute to Caesar and 
saying that He is Christ, the King.’* 

St. Chrysostom comments: “Here we see the keenest 
kind of astuteness and at the same time their utter bad 
faith. They had proclaimed Jesus guilty of death as a 
blasphemer because He called Himself the Son of God. 
They knew perfectly well that such an accusation would 
move Pilate very little; he was an idolater and pagan. 
Little he cared for what they considered blasphemy, and, 
for that matter, he would not be more moved by the ac- 


THE PRiETORIUM 


93 


cusation that the young Prophet had declared Himself the 
Son of God. Seeing Him there before him and judging 
Him according to his standard, this was merely foolish 
boasting, certainly not a crime worthy of death.” 

The cunning Pharisees quickly understood all this, so 
they changed the accusation to something quite differ¬ 
ent, to something which Pilate would understand very 
quickly. So Jesus was called a revolutionary, a seducer of 
the people, an objector to the payment of the Roman tax, 
an ambitious pretender to the throne. These were quite 
other things in the mind of any Roman, certainly in the 
mind of a Roman Governor, who had good reason to 
know how Tiberius, the Emperor, quick to suspect rebel¬ 
lion, punished it with ferocious severity. 

For the moment Pilate hesitated. He gave little value 
to the first two accusations. Like a good Governor he 
was perfectly aware, through his various officials, of all 
that had transpired concerning Jesus during the last three 
years, yet never once had he heard that the young 
Prophet attempted any sort of revolution against Rome. 
Very likely he knew, also, the clever answer given by the 
Master to the Jews, when they asked Him whether it was 
lawful to pay tribute to Caesar. These words, without 
doubt, had become rather celebrated and were passed, 
as a phrase like that was sure to pass, from mouth to 
mouth among the people. 

He passed over the first two accusations lightly, but the 
last one evidently made its impression. This Man w T as a 
pretender to the throne! Ah! that was different! In that 
moment a crowd of memories passed before his mind. As 


94 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Governor of Palestine for several years, he knew very well 
the aspirations and the hopes of the Hebrew people; the 
coming of the three kings and the slaughter of the inno¬ 
cents were too recent incidents for him to ignore or to for¬ 
get. In a way these events seemed to indicate that the 
long expected Messias was about to appear. 

The preaching of John the Baptist and the three years 
of the public life of Jesus, with all His wonderful teach¬ 
ings, His beneficent works, and the miracles which He 
wrought among the people, — all these things Pilate had 
heard and well knew. He knew, also, the hatred with 
which the high priests persecuted this young Prophet of 
Nazareth, but now he remembered, too, that only a few 
days ago Jesus had entered the Holy City in glorious tri¬ 
umph, and into his mind came suddenly the thought: “Is 
this really the Messias?” 

Throughout the whole Roman Empire there was a gen¬ 
eral sentiment quite well known that at this time the ad¬ 
vent of some extraordinary, divine person would take 
place, and among the other popular sayings of the day 
was this: that out of the East, indeed out of Judea, 
would come the men who would rule the world. Tacitus 
speaks clearly of this rumor, so also Suetonius and Virgil. 
Surely Pilate could not be ignorant of these writings. He 
perhaps did not believe them; nevertheless, without 
doubt, they made some impression upon his mind. 

It never occurred to him to imagine that all this re¬ 
ferred to a moral and religious domination of the world. 
Pilate was a soldier, and to him the dominating power 
could be only that of a powerful monarch rivaling the 


THE PILETORIUM 


95 


power of Caesar. In this interpretation of the great popu¬ 
lar sentiment Pilate, though a pagan, was of the same 
mind as the high priests of the Hebrews. Clearly it was 
his duty to suppress the very first indications of any riv¬ 
alry to Caesar’s throne. Looking down to where Jesus 
stood before him in such complete abjection, he thought: 
“Can this be such a Man? ” It seemed utterly impossible 
to give credence to the thought. Still in a matter of such 
grave responsibility it would be necessary to investigate 
and to examine the accused. 

From the terrace where he was standing Pilate gave a 
sign to the officer on guard to lead Jesus into the praeto- 
rium, and entering himself he took his place in the tribunal 
as prescribed, and beside him sat his scribe or secretary to 
take cognizance of the defense which the Nazarene would 
establish. 

Jesus stood before the Governor, and the vision of this 
9cene compelled Origen to exclaim: “The Judge of all 
mankind stands as a guilty One before the judge of 
Judea.” Pilate, seated in his place of judgment, looked 
long and attentively at the young Prophet standing be¬ 
fore him, and he was profoundly struck by the ineffable 
dignity and calmness of His presence. Finally, breaking 
the silence, he said to Christ: “Art Thou the King of the 
Jews?” — thus clearly revealing what was passing in his 
mind. The Master answered this question of Pilate only 
by putting another one to him: “Sayest thou this thing of 
thyself or have others told it thee of Me?” 

The obvious intention of this question of Pilate was to 
clear away all doubt in his mind as to the true position of 


96 


THE PASSION OF OUB LORD 


the Nazarene and His aspirations to royalty. The ques¬ 
tion of Christ irritated him evidently, for at once he 
said: “Am I a Jew? Thy own nation and the chief 
priests have delivered Thee up to me. What hast Thou 
done?” The Roman Governor dearly was determined 
to keep himself free from all direct responsibility in 
this trial. 

And yet his irritation at the question of Christ leads 
him into an illegality, for according to the law, he had 
no right to put the question which he did. The law does 
not compel a man to testify against himself in any case. 
But the Master, passing over this question, answered 
rather the first interrogation made by Pilate, whether 
He was King of the Jews. Oh! the sublime clearness and 
directness of His answer: “My kingdom is not of this 
world. If My kingdom were of this world, My servants 
would certainly strive that I should not be delivered 
to the Jews.” Again He repeats — surely Pilate can 
no longer misunderstand: “My kingdom is not from 
hence.” 

Let us examine for a moment these words of Christ. 
The Master did not deny that He was king. In fact He 
openly declared that He was the head of a kingdom, al¬ 
though a kingdom not depending upon human force of 
arms. His kingdom was of a character which constituted 
it above any earthly sovereignty. Pilate saw clearly the 
import of Christ’s answer, and at once he said: “Art Thou 
a king?” To which Christ replied: “Thou sayest that I 
am a king.” And then continued: “For this was I born 
and for this came I into the world that I should give 


THE PILETORIUM 07 

testimony to the truth. Everyone that is of the truth 
heareth My voice.” 

Who does not recall at once the words of Christ uttered 
long before: “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life”? I 
am the way which leads and the strength which assists to 
eternal life. Thus once more He turns the scales against 
those who had accused Him of pretending to earthly roy¬ 
alty. 

Let us here reflect a moment upon the scene before us. 
Here is a Man accused, chained as a criminal, and deliv¬ 
ered up as a malefactor, the rabble, clamoring for His 
death after they had offered to Him every sort of violence 
and cowardly maltreatment, His clothing tom, lacerated 
and defiled, the very picture of an outcast. And yet, Jesus, 
His head lifted in dignity before the great Roman Gover¬ 
nor, stands in perfect calm, confronted by the power 
that the name of Rome signified, and in a tone of sub¬ 
lime royalty proclaims to the Roman Governor, to the 
supreme court of the Jewish nation, to the world, “I am 
King.” 

And such a King! Greater than any the world had ever 
seen before; King not only of the Jews, but of the Romans, 
of all the Gentiles and of all humanity, not then only but 
forevermore: King, Whose kingdom depended in no way 
upon mere human influence or human wealth or human 
power or the strength of arms, but upon the power of God 
alone — that omnipotent power of the Eternal Father 
Who had sent His Only Begotten Son into the world to 
found the Kingdom of Truth. He had come upon earth, 
and was now standing before the whole Jewish nation. 


98 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


before all the power of Rome, before all the terrors and 
arms of the whole world, proclaiming that His kingdom 
had come to earth. 

Oh! the sublimity of these words, the superhuman dig¬ 
nity with which they were pronounced, the divine con¬ 
sciousness of their meaning, that from that moment until 
the end of time the kingdom He was founding would en¬ 
dure, and that not all the powers of Hell could destroy it. 
The kingdom of the Son of God is indestructible and eter¬ 
nal, because God shall reign forever and of His Kingdom 
there shall be no end. 

The last words of Christ struck deeply into the mind of 
the Governor: “Everyone that is of the truth heareth 
My voice.” The face of Pilate grew even more serious and 
thoughtful: “Everyone that is of the truth.—Where 
and who are they?” Pilate asked himself. He had been 
educated at Rome in the religion of Rome, that is to say, 
in the cult of many gods. Coming as Governor to Pales¬ 
tine, he had lived several years among a people who wor¬ 
shiped one God. 

Doubtless, this new experience had influenced his mind, 
but, like the Roman of his day and like so many people of 
our own time, he had never taken the pains or the time to 
go very deeply into the question. Like most pagans of his 
lay and ours he was wholly indifferent to religion. In 
fact, the confusion of many gods left him, as it had left so 
many of his time, simply skeptical. One philosopher said 
this, another said that. Who was to judge between them? 
These people about him believed in one God, but many of 
the great Roman and Grecian philosophers seemed not to 


THE PR^ETORIUM 99 

know exactly whether there was one God or several or 
any. So, like the easy-going Roman of his day, he put 
aside this whole question and did not occupy himself with 
speculative considerations of religion, but spent his days 
in seeking favor with Caesar, governing his province as 
best he could, enjoying life as he found it. 

Before him stood this young Prophet Who, in part ob¬ 
scurely and in part clearly, indicated that there was such a 
thing as the Kingdom of Truth, and that of this kingdom 
He, the Nazarene, was King. And the Roman skeptic, 
hearing the words of Christ, was moved with a slight cu¬ 
riosity to learn more of what this strange young Man 
taught about these speculative matters, and so he turned 
and, peering inquisitively into the face of Christ, he 
asked: “Truth, what is truth?” 

Whatever might be the answer, it was clear at least in 
the mind of Pilate that the pretensions, or whatever they 
might be, on the part of this Rabbi, certainly had nothing 
to do with interfering with the Roman government or 
with the Empire of Caesar. It was certainly clear that, as 
this Prophet said, if His kingdom was of an earthly kind 
His followers would have fought for it; and now this 
Prophet, calling Himself King, is clearly talking about a 
royalty which does not concern him as Governor. Neither 
would it disturb the peace and tranquillity of Caesar. 
Clearly, then, this was no case in which he was interested 
as Governor, and, rising in his place and turning towards 
the Master, he said, in accents which showed clearly his 
own dubiousness: “What is truth?” And then, without 
waiting for an answer, in fact, doubting if any answer 


> > * i 

> * 

> IS > 


) \ > 


100 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


could be given to his question other than the thousand 
various ones which he had heard already, he made up his 
mind that there was nothing more to concern him in the 
matter. So, going out once more and standing at the head 
of the stairs, looking down at the multitude still murmur¬ 
ing below, he said to them: “I find no cause in Him.” 
That is, “your accusations against this Man have abso¬ 
lutely no ground. I have examined the case and it is clear 
to me that this Man is innocent.” 

Virtually this declaration meant that Jesus should be 
set free. The Roman Governor, having examined atten¬ 
tively the whole case, had made his decision. Jesus was 
innocent. 

The Sanhedrim was stupefied at the publication of this 
sentence by the Roman Governor. What? Had all their 
machinations come to naught so quickly? The sight of 
the Nazarene standing side by side with Pilate on the ter¬ 
race above them, thus practically set free by the Roman 
law, infuriated them even more than ever. Once more 
they shouted in rage their accusations, they filled the air 
with their cries, they threatened the Roman Governor for 
his conduct, they behaved as men obsessed by the powers 
of evil. 

Pilate began to waver at this menacing spectacle and, 
turning to the Master, still perfectly calm at his side, he 
said to Him: “Hearest Thou not the things they say 
against Thee? Answereth Thou nothing?” But Jesus 
opened not His mouth; neither did He speak a single 
word. Pilate looked at Him in amazement. “Ita ut 
miraretur praeses vehementer.” (St. Matthew xxvn, 14.) 


THE PR^ETORIUM 


101 


Suddenly someone in the crowd shouted: “This Man 
has gone about among the people teaching them to rebel. 
He has disturbed by His teaching all Judea beginning 
from Galilee to this place.” Pilate caught the word Gali¬ 
lee above the rumors of the crowd and instantly he saw a 
way out of his difficulty. This young Prophet, therefore, 
was a Galilean. Very well, then, let Him go before the 
Governor of Galilee to be tried. Pilate, knowing well that 
at that moment Herod, the Governor of Galilee, was in 
the city for the solemnity of the Passover, suddenly saw in 
the presence of Herod an escape for himself out of the dif¬ 
ficulty. 

The members of the Sanhedrim, hearing the clever re¬ 
sponse of Pilate to their demands, at once saw the purpose 
of the Roman Governor, and were intensely displeased. 
It suited not their purposes at all, this evasion on the part 
of Pilate. They had little respect for the Governor of Gal¬ 
ilee, and, besides, it was not to their liking to be brushed 
aside in this way by the Roman authorities, especially as 
now it had been declared that Jesus was innocent, at least 
that the evidence against Him had proved nothing. 

On the other hand, what was there to do? Certainly 
they had no power to impose their will upon the Roman 
Governor. Pilate saw clearly that the young Prophet was 
the victim of the envy and the hatred of the princes of the 
priests. He had some conscience left, and in any event, as 
a Roman official, he had a fairly good sense of justice. He 
really wanted to liberate Him entirely. 

At the same time, he was shrewdly afraid of this howl¬ 
ing mob and, to gain time and shift his responsibility, 


102 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


there occurred to him this clever expedient of sending 
the Nazarene to be tried by Herod. Besides, it sud¬ 
denly occurred to him that in this way he would not 
only free himself from embarrassment, but that he 
would gain favor with Herod, with whom sometime ago 
he had broken. 

Clearly Pilate was something of a diplomat. He prob¬ 
ably was not a bad man, but, like most men of his kind, he 
was an opportunist. Now, Pilate knew well that in send¬ 
ing Jesus to the tribunal of Herod he was acting entirely 
according to the Roman law, by which the accused may be 
sent from the place of arrest to be tried in the place of 
domicile. So the Sanhedrim had to bow its head and ac¬ 
cept the terms. The Master, still bound, descended the 
steps, and once more in the midst of this howling mob He 
was hurried towards the house of Herod. 

Can we not see the Roman Governor standing still 
upon the terrace, a look of perplexity upon his counte¬ 
nance, as he followed with his eyes the sad cortege which 
slowly disappeared from his view? What thoughts must 
have filled his mind, utterly confused by what to him ap¬ 
peared such apparent contradictions in the whole scene 
that had just taken place before him. The rage of the rab¬ 
ble disgusted him. The sight of that calm, royal figure, 
royal in its dignity even in the midst of humiliations, still 
stood out with wonderful clearness before his mental vi¬ 
sion. The King of the Kingdom of Truth, — what did it 
all mean? 

As the murmurs of the crowd gradually died out and 
the mob, little by little, was lost to view, with a deep sigh 


THE PRiETORIUM 


10S 


he turned from the terrace and entered the house. Some¬ 
how the vision haunted him still and he could not dissi¬ 
pate from his mind a certain feeling of sadness which took 
possession of his soul. “Ah, truth. What is truth?” So 
he ruminated as he went back to the work of his office. 


CHAPTER VIII 

JIJDAS 

While all this was happening at the preetorium, else¬ 
where something quite different, something horrible was 
taking place. 

Judas, knowing that the Master had been condemned 
at the first trial during the night, and that the sentence 
of death had been confirmed by the Sanhedrim early in 
the morning, and having witnessed the terrible humilia¬ 
tion of Jesus in the midst of every sort of cruel treatment 
and ignominy, finally saw Him dragged off, up the streets, 
taken to the house of the Roman Governor to have the 
sentence of death executed according to the Roman law. 

At first he was utterly stunned. Surely, surely, he had 
never foreseen that such things, such awful and horrible 
things, should be the result of his action in betraying 
Christ. And now, at last, he began to realize the terrible 
magnitude, the full consequences of his awful crime. It 
is what always happens in such events. The human 
passions urge and drive relentlessly towards the sin, ex¬ 
citing the sinner to commit the crime, offering plausible 
excuses for its committal; but the deed once done, the 
sinful thing once accomplished, the passions subside, and 
then the guilty man is left to face Reason, his accuser, 
and Reason spares him nothing. 

She holds up to him in cold resentment all the mean¬ 
ness of his action. Shame follows upon guilt and the 


JUDAS 


105 


consciousness of a crime committed. Woe to the man 
who then delivers himself to despair! Woe to him who, 
in the midst of his remorse, does not lift his eyes to 
Heaven, always ready with its help to release him by 
penitence and sorrow from the slavery and the utter 
destruction of an unfettered remorse. 

Judas, son of Simon of the little village of Kerioth in 
Judea (hence Iscariot), having met the Master the first 
year of His public life, at once attached himself to Him 
and became an enthusiastic follower of the Nazarene. 
Evidently he was a man of great activity and gave evi¬ 
dence of interesting himself deeply in all the affairs of the 
Master and His little flock. He seems to have been able 
to manage things, as we say to-day. He was a good ad¬ 
ministrator, and, as the little group who followed Christ 
had everything in common, it was naturally convenient 
that one of them should hold the purse and pay the bills, 
such little bills as there would be for such utter sim¬ 
plicity of life as theirs. 

In any event he was always with the Master. He was 
rather an important person among this little group of 
disciples. He was chosen as one of the twelve. He had 
seen with his own eyes the wonderful works which Jesus 
performed day after day. He witnessed the healing of the 
sick, the miraculous multiplication of the loaves and 
fishes, the calming of the tempest on the lake; he had 
seen the dead Lazarus raised to life at a word from the 
Master. He had heard the confession of Peter proclaim¬ 
ing the Divinity of Christ, and in company with the other 
Apostles he, too, had baptized and had preached the 


106 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


doctrine of the New Law, and, like the other Apostles, 
he had seen that even the demons acknowledged the 
divine power of the Name of Christ. 

Certainly he, with the other Apostles, had once be¬ 
lieved, as Peter had exclaimed, that Jesus was the Christ, 
the Son of the living God. Surely, being in the company 
of his Master every day, he must have loved and vener¬ 
ated Him, as everyone did who saw Him and beheld the 
sweetness of His countenance and the tenderness of His 
heart. Judas surely, at least in the beginning, must have 
been sincere. But alas! how different was the end of all 
this for him! 

What devilish power is it that money seems always to 
exercise upon the souls of men? One thing is certain; 
that is, that even a year before this time of the Passion of 
Our Lord Judas was already making his own selfish plans 
and following his own selfish desires. When in Caphar- 
naum Jesus gave forth His promise of the Eucharist, He 
saw that some of His followers began to murmur and go 
apart from Him, saying: “This saying is hard and who 
can hear it?” But Jesus, turning to the Apostles, said: 
“ Will you also go away? ” Oh, the sadness of that voice! 
He promises them the greatest gift He can give them and 
He has difficulty in making them understand that it is 
God’s gift, above human understanding. And at once, 
even after all they had seen, their faith began to weaken. 
“Will you go, too?” He asked the Apostles who stood 
nearest to Him. 

Peter answered: “ Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou 
hast the words of eternal life. We have believed and 


JUDAS 


107 


have known that Thou are the Christ, the Son of God.” 
Here was Peter’s solemn declaration of his faith in Christ 
as God, and with him ten others believed and attested 
their faith, but not Judas. Judas was silent then. And 
St. John records Christ’s words: “ Have not I chosen you 
twelve and one of you is a devil?” The Evangelist goes 
on to say that Jesus made allusion to Judas, that He said 
this of Judas Iscariot, the one who was to betray Him. 

One may well wonder, how it is possible that Judas, 
beginning so well, ended in ruin. First, let us remember 
that no one immediately and all at once becomes thor¬ 
oughly bad. He begins by venturing a little, by wander¬ 
ing small distances from the truth and from the straight 
line of honest action. Little by little he becomes accus¬ 
tomed to thus relaxing from the law, and then the habit 
becomes easy. Once that step is reached, things grow 
from bad to worse, until finally the catastrophe hap¬ 
pens. 

Judas was the bursar of the Apostles. He held the 
money, and there is something diabolical in money unless 
one is well on guard. Judas began, little by little, to feel 
that the money was his; and so his mind, step by step, 
formed the habit of thinking, not that he was the agent 
of the Apostles in dispensing the few funds they had, 
but that he was the real owner. 

St. John describes the beginning of this process (xn, 
6): “ He was a thief, and, having the purse, carried the 
things that were put therein.” So, little by little, Judas 
became accustomed to the habit of theft and the awful 
serpent of greed grew in his soul. His very nearness to 


108 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Grace itself seemed only to serve to harden his heart, 
and his eyes, which should have seen the way to Paradise, 
looked only towards the shadowy path of avarice and 
vice. 

He heard the wonderful words of Jesus in the Sermon 
on the Mount, but they fell upon his soul like the seed on 
stony soil. He once saw clearly, as the others saw, that 
his Master was God Himself, but his greed for money 
clouded his vision little by little, and his avarice for the 
things of this world gradually blinded him entirely to 
every spiritual beauty. First doubt came and then blank 
infidelity. 

He still was compelled, even as the very enemies of 
Christ were compelled, to admit the sanctity, the holi¬ 
ness of the Master; but those whose god is money 
grow, little by little, to be persuaded that the holiness 
which impedes the enjoyment of the things which money 
can buy is rather a stupid thing. And so Judas turned, 
little by little, from the vision of God to the adoration 
of mere pelf. 

It may be — in fact it is not at all improbable — that 
Judas, even for a moment, at least, at different times, 
admitted to himself that perhaps the Master was the 
Messias; but, as his faith became dulled and dimmed by 1 
his avarice, even his conception of the Messias changed 
with the change in his soul, and so he finally came to the 
general rabbinical point of view that the Messias was a 
temporal ruler, a wielder of temporal power, and the 
dispenser of wealth and riches. This point of view natu¬ 
rally allured him, for would he not then be one of those 


JUDAS 


109 


who stood at the side of the great ruler? Would he not 
be one of the powers behind the throne? 

Then, too, he had seen how the crowd, moved to a 
tremendous enthusiasm by the words which Christ ut¬ 
tered, wanted to seize Him and make Him king; and 
when Jesus, seeing their designs, fled from them and hid 
Himself so that they could not find Him, Judas felt only 
the sting of a severe disappointment. Once again, on 
the Feast of the Palms, when Christ entered Jerusalem 
in triumph, the hopes of Judas arose, but again rank 
disappointment followed when that very evening the 
Master, instead of pressing His advantage, led His 
Apostles away in silence and went from the Holy City 
to Bethany, evidently thus resigning all hope of any 
temporal prestige among the people. 

Little by little, it dawned upon him that the whole 
adventure upon which he had entered with such enthusi¬ 
asm was to end in complete disillusion. It was rather a 
life of privation and sacrifice, this companionship with 
the Master. There was little to it at times; there were 
the hardships of the weather and the long journeys, with 
the trial and fatigue at the end of them. What was there 
in all this for him? The Master and the disciples had to 
be content with shabby garments and poor food and the 
company of the ignorant, whereas, look at the San¬ 
hedrim! How different things were with them! How 
wonderful was their raiment of office and what power 
and prestige they possessed! Ah, he had made a blunder, 
that was all! He was tired of this roving life with nothing 
in it but discomfort, and his venal soul began to make 


110 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


plans so that he might enter into friendly relations with 
the members of the Sanhedrim. 

All this was the outcome of the passion of greed and 
avarice which had beset his soul and had conquered. But 
not alone avarice was beginning to exercise complete 
domination over him. The spirit of rebellion was being 
urged on by another vice not less strong — the vice of a 
fierce jealousy. We see in the description given by the 
Evangelists the rather childish contention which went 
on from time to time among these rather ingenuous 
disciples of the Master. 

Yes, they loved Him dearly, that is sure, but their very 
love for Him seemed to have made them envious, one of 
the other, so that they vied with each other as to which 
of them should be the greater among them. Clearly 
Jesus had indicated His will with regard to one of them. 
Peter He designated as the future head of His Church, 
and, having accepted that, they still had their little con¬ 
tests among themselves as to which of them might come 
after Peter in importance and prestige. 

All this is perfectly intelligible. No doubt to Our 
Blessed Lord it seemed rather childish, but He was 
always patient with the little offenses of those who 
otherwise were so faithful to Him. 

Not so with Judas. There was no ingenuousness in his 
heart; it was now all guile and deceit and ambition. Did 
he not hold the purse? Was he not the moneyed man of 
the little company of Apostles? No doubt, for a long time 
he had been a thorn in the side of the faithful disciples, 
who only wanted to be near the Master and who had 


JUDAS 


111 


given up everything to follow Him. For this reason, no 
doubt, the little group understood well the meaning of 
Christ’s words when He said: “ One of you is a devil,” 
that is, tempter. 

Finally, came the last straw which served to break 
down whatever little there was left of decency in the 
heart of Judas. It was the evening of the 13th Nisan — 
that is, two days before the Passover — when Christ, 
leaving Jerusalem, went over to Bethany and there dined 
with His Apostles in the house of Simon, the leper whom 
the Master had cleansed some time before. His friends 
were there about Him at the table. Martha went about 
serving the meal, and the risen Lazarus reclined with 
others at the table. 

Of a sudden a strange woman entered the banquet 
hall. A look of surprise lit up the faces of the guests. 
They knew her well by reputation. How strange that at 
this moment, unbidden, she should enter the house where 
Christ was resting. Without a word the Magdalen went 
straight to the place where Jesus was and, kneeling at 
His feet, she broke open a vase of precious ointment, 
poured it over the sacred feet of the Master, bathing 
them at the same time with a torrent of tears, her frame 
shaken by her sobs; and, loosing from about her head her 
wonderful hair, she stooped down to kiss those sacred 
feet and to wipe them with her thick golden locks. 

The Divine Master gazed at her long in deep compas¬ 
sion. He understood well the full meaning of her action. 
His divine feet had brought to her, as to numberless 
others, a message such as no one else had ever brought. 


112 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


The vanity of her hair vanished under the feet of Him 
who had brought her strength and salvation, and the 
thoughtless joy of life was turned into a bounding spring 
of love in her heart. There poured from her eyes a 
torrent of repentant tears. 

Among the guests one could see first wonder and sur¬ 
prise, but the expression upon the face of Christ soon 
revealed to them all the complete understanding and the 
forgiveness of God. And so they watched, deeply moved 
yet silent, silent all; but not Judas. In all this he could 
see only one thing. To his avaricious eyes this was a mere 
waste of money. He could not even keep it to himself, 
but in his anger and disappointment he blurted out 
before the whole company: “ Why all this waste? Why, 
this ointment could be sold for three hundred pence and 
given to the poor.” 

O hypocritical charity of Judas! Much he cared for 
the poor! That was the merest excuse to get for himself 
the money for which the vase of ointment might have 
been sold. To such an extreme the vileness of his own 
mind had led him! No thought of Jesus now, nor of all 
the love of which the ointment and the tears were but 
the symbols and the signs. But the Master, knowing well 
what was in the heart of Judas and the deep love and 
contrition in the heart of the Magdalen, rebuked the 
avarice of the one, and gave to posterity forever the fame 
of the deep love and repentance of the other. 

The very tenderness of the Master towards the Mag¬ 
dalen served only the more to embitter the heart of this 
jealous and envious victim of avarice and ambitioix. 


JUDAS 


113 


The rebuke of Judas was a public one. It served only to 
add anger and the spirit of revenge to all the other evil 
passions which now controlled him. Then and there he 
decided what to do. 

St. Matthew tells us clearly. Judas went to the princes 
of the priests. He had lost the price of the vase of pre¬ 
cious ointment. It must be made up in some way, and 
for thirty pieces of silver, the price of a slave, he sold his 
Master, the Christ, the Son of God. 

So it came about that this man who began in faith 
ended in the vilest infamy. Little by little, he shut out 
from his eyes the light of grace, and more and more, he 
opened wide the door to the meanest and most despicable 
of passions: jealousy first, then avarice, then pride, then 
unbridled ambition. Step by step these vices grew in his 
soul until there was room for nothing else, not even for 
pity. And when at last anger and hatred were added to 
the list, they drove him headlong into the very abyss of 
vileness and treachery. 

He not only was willing to forsake his Master; that, 
after all, one could understand. The presence of Holiness 
was to him only the bitterest kind of reproach. And so, if 
he had simply gone away from it all, one might say, alas! 
for the misery and the weakness of human nature. But 
the more elevated the position, the deeper the fall. From 
the high apostolate he reeled to the very bottom of mean¬ 
ness and disgrace. So he would not simply leave the 
Master, not merely betray Him, but he would sell Him! 
Jesus had often called him friend. Indeed, He would still 
do so even after His betrayal; but only a friend perverted 


114 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


by utter meanness can be capable of the very depths of 
treachery. Generations before, the Prophets had fore¬ 
seen this awful act, execrable beyond words, and the 
Master, reclining there at table, saw deep into the re¬ 
cesses of the heart of this false friend and knew full well 
the utter evil of which it now was capable. 

Judas had seen how at another time the Master had 
made Himself invisible and had suddenly slipped out of 
the hands of His enemies, who threatened to stone Him, 
and oh, the horror of the thought! Instead of making 
him realize that this was a sign of His Divinity, it only 
served to increase his treachery, and so in the very act of 
selling his Master he warned the ministers of the San¬ 
hedrim to take every precaution this time, so that the 
Master would have no chance of escape. 

Step by step, always stealthily, he followed the crowd, 
after the arrest of Jesus, up the hill to the house of Annas 
and Caiphas, and finally along the road to the praetorium, 
where the Roman Governor was to sit in judgment. 
And now, as the horror of his crime began to reveal itself 
to his sinful soul, he almost hoped that the Master might 
even now slip away again from the hands and the bonds 
which constrained Him; but he saw that horror suc¬ 
ceeded horror. Now he beheld Him, the sorry Victim 
of the fury of that crowd to which he had sold Him. 

The sight of the awful spectacle made him almost 
insane. What had he done? Surely, surely, he had never 
imagined that these things would ever happen to Jesus. 
Suddenly a tremendous weakness, like the sickness of 
death, overcame him. He heard the rabble saying to 


JUDAS 


115 


one another: “Who was it that betrayed the Prophet? 
Is it true that that wretch sold Him for thirty pieces of 
silver? A crime like that is the meanest thing possible 
for a man to do. He deserves to be stoned.” He could 
stand no longer this chattering of the mob, and as the 
procession with the Master in the midst was just now 
passing at the foot of Mount Moria and it was the time 
of the early morning sacrifice, which took place in the 
temple at sunrise, suddenly the thought came to him: 
“ I must undo all this. I can no longer bear the horror 
of this remorse. I will take back the money and break 
the contract.” 

With these thoughts surging in his mind, he rushed up 
the side of the hill to the temple and suddenly appeared 
before the ministers, already gathered in the Hieron. 
Appearing like one who has suddenly gone mad, with his 
hair disheveled, his body bent, and his eyes starting 
from their sockets, he yelled at them in a hoarse voice 
which betrayed the anguish of his stricken soul: “ I have 
sinned! I have sinned! I have betrayed the blood of 
the Innocent! ” 

The ministers of the temple looked at him in amaze¬ 
ment. Changed as he was, they still recognized him as 
the one who had sold Jesus. “ I have sinned!” again he 
yelled. “ Take back the money, the price of innocent 
blood! Take it back and release Him, for He is innocent, 
He is innocent!” Coldly the priests of the temple turned 
their backs upon him. They were tired of his ravings 
already, and it was time to go on with the morning sacri¬ 
fice. “What is all this to us?” they answered over their 


116 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


shoulders. “ We have nothing more to do with it. You 
sold Him. Now it is your affair.” “ Quid ad nos? Tu 
videris.” (St. Matthew xxvn, 4.) “ This is no place for 
you now. Why do you come to bother us with your 
ravings? You made the contract and it stands. Now 
go! 

At these words an unbridled fury seized upon Judas, 
and taking from the bag, which had once served as the 
purse of the friends of Christ, the thirty pieces of silver, 
he threw them violently upon the pavement of the 
temple. Then, with a cry of rage upon his lips, he ran out 
of doors; he crept down the valley along the wall of the 
temple, down, down, until he came to the brook Cedron. 

He knew not whither his steps were carrying him, 
but suddenly he halted as before him arose the garden of 
Gethsemane. There he stood at the very entrance, the 
very spot upon which he had given to the Son of Man the 
traitor’s kiss. In his ears rang the cry of old, when 
brother had first murdered brother: Cain, where is thy 
brother, Abel? Alas! what hast thou done, for his blood 
now cries to Heaven for vengeance! The blood of the 
Master cries to Me, His Eternal Father. His death is 
upon thy head. 

Meanwhile the sun was climbing through the deep 
blue of that Oriental sky, the sky of azure, so limpid and 
radiant in the early morning of that spring-time; but in 
the heart of Judas there was only the blackness of 
despair. The sight of the spot where he stood made him 
writhe in torture, and he fled onward and onward, not 
knowing where he was going. Still the voices rang in his 


JUDAS 


117 


brain, the voices of the crowd, of the cruel rabble about 
Jesus, and those other voices which came, not from the 
rabble, but from Hell itself: “ So this is the end to which 
you have come. How, wretched man, can you dare to 
live another hour? There is only one thing for you to do. 
Life henceforth would be an intolerable burden. Go 
now and finish it all.” 

Meanwhile, wfith what strength was left in his weaken¬ 
ing limbs, he still hurried on, until finally he came to the 
little village of Siloam in a bleak and desolate place. 
Lifting his eyes from the earth for a moment, he caught 
sight of a tree by the wayside. Every last vestige of hope 
had vanished. The knotted branches of the tree seemed 
to beckon him towards them. For a moment he stood 
still, and instantly the decision flashed to his brain. He 
took from around his waist the girdle which fastened his 
clothing, and with it he strangled himself on the branches 
of the outspreading tree. Despair had closed the gates 
of his wretched soul even to the pardon of God. 

“ Suspensus crepuit medius et diffusa sunt omnia 
viscera ejus.” Thus Nature showed her horror at his 
crime. His very bowels burst from his body and fell 
down over the earth at his feet. St. Peter recalls this 
fact to the faithful gathered in the Cenacle, after the 
Resurrection, as a thing well known to all Jerusalem. 

The ministers of the temple of Jerusalem, once rid of 
the sight of Judas, turned their attention to the pieces of 
silver now scattered over the pavement, and they began 
to discuss what use they might be put to. It was clear 
they could not put them in the sacred treasury, because 


118 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 

they "were the price of blood; so they agreed that with 
them they would purchase a place of burial for strangers. 
And that bit of ground has been known from that day 
to this as “The Field of Blood”—Haceldama. And so 
was fulfilled the prophecy of Jeremias, saying: “And 
they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of Him that 
was prized, . . . and they gave them unto the potter’s 
field ...” (St. Matthew xxvn, 9.) 

Meditating upon this hypocrisy of the ministers of the 
temple, St. Jerome says: “ Oh, ye hypocrites, who strain 
at a gnat, but who swallow a camel! If this money could 
not be put in the treasury of the temple because it was 
the price of blood, why, then, did you shed that blood?” 
In their blindness they could not see that unwittingly 
they were carrying out the predictions of the holy proph¬ 
ets and thus fulfilling the eternal plans of God. 

The perfect innocence of Christ was manifest to any¬ 
one willing to look the facts in the face, and now we have 
a public testimony to this innocence of the Master, com¬ 
ing, indeed, from a very different source. While the 
Roman Governor was solemnly proclaiming to the San¬ 
hedrim and the rabble before the praetorium that he found 
no cause in this Man, within the temple itself another 
voice, the voice of the traitor himself, was loudly protest¬ 
ing to the high priests the same truth: “ I have sinned in 
betraying innocent blood!” Thus in the temple of the 
Lord and in the temple of human justice at about the 
same time these two entirely different witnesses pro¬ 
claimed to the Jewish nation and the Gentile world the 
absolute innocence of the Divine Master. 


JUDAS 


119 


How wonderful are the ways of God, which, out of the 
very willfulness of man, produce good results, which, still 
leaving to man perfect freedom of will, turn everything 
finally to the completion of His supreme design! The Field 
of Blood would be forever the possession of the traitor 
Judas, since it was bought with his money, the price of 
his awful treachery; and through all the ages it will also 
be public proof of the innocence of Christ, and the name, 
Haceldama, will signify until the end of time the infamy 
of the one and the divine innocence of the Other. 

And so ends, by the dreadful crime of suicide, the mor¬ 
tal life of him who had betrayed the Master. And his 
soul — what became of that? Alas! that is too clearly 
indicated by the words of Christ: “ Woe to that man by 
whom the Son of Man shall be betrayed! It were better 
for him if that man had not been born.” Crazed by the 
thought of his crime, overwhelmed with horror at the 
sight of his awful deeds, not alone of the betrayal, but of 
all the crimes he had been committing for some time past, 
his soul was seized with such a terror that in it only 
despair could find place. His suicide is clear evidence 
that all hope had fled, and that the doors of his soul had 
been closed to all thought of sorrow and repentance. 

Pride and stubbornness guarded these doors, and the 
tender mercy of Christ, which he had seen so often mani¬ 
fested again and again towards sinners, could find no 
entrance. His last crime of final impenitence was the 
greatest and the worst of all; and that soul of Judas, 
destined for eternal happiness, was now by this final act 
of black despair hurled into the abyss of BelL 


120 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Here we may well reflect upon the contrast between 
the fate of Judas and that of Peter. Peter, too, had 
sinned enormously in denying, even with an oath, his 
Divine Master. He had heard the clear admonition of 
Jesus, yet, presuming upon his own strength, he rashly 
exposed himself to the danger and fell, fell repeatedly and 
most grievously. But it was a fall due rather to human 
weakness than to malice, and one gentle look from the 
eyes of his Master was sufficient to make him understand 
the baseness of his sin. Clearly Peter, though impulsive, 
was not bound by the obstinacy of pride, and, realizing 
quickly the horror of his sin, he at once arose, ran away 
from the occasion of it, fled to the solitude of a cave, and 
there poured out his whole soul in the bitterness of his 
tears. 

Yes, the stain of his denial had left a black trace upon 
his soul, but his perfect sorrow and self-humiliation, find¬ 
ing vent in a torrent of weeping, would by the mercy of 
Christ wipe that trace away. Tradition says that from 
that hour his weeping never ceased, and that the tears, 
falling over his cheeks, wore a furrow, which was a wit¬ 
ness to his deep contrition. Peter, too, was overwhelmed 
with remorse, but it was the sorrow of a son who had 
wounded his Father, a sorrow which hopes, confides, 
loves; such sorrow as never fails to touch the mercy of 
God. Peter never abandoned himself to despair, even in 
the midst of an awful grief, but, the first spasm of his 
suffering over, he summoned all the forces of his soul, 
determined to repair, as best he might, the evil he had 
done. 


JUDAS 


121 


In the strength of God he arose a new man and went 
out again to find the Master, broken with sorrow, it is 
true, but determined never again to be guilty. And 
Jesus, Who had always shown a predilection for every 
poor sinner who would return to God, soon gave him 
proof of his complete pardon. Not only that, but He 
gave him the greatest sign of His utmost confidence and 
made and established this converted sinner who had 
denied Him the Prince of His Apostles, the head of His 
Church universal. 

Oh, what a touching thought! To Peter and to the 
Magdalen He appeared first after His glorious Resurrec¬ 
tion. Could there possibly be more convincing and more 
touching evidence of Christ’s wonderful love for con¬ 
verted sinners? Oh, what a wonderful lesson of divine 
patience and divine love! Only God really forgets and 
forgives. Why should one, therefore, ever dare to de¬ 
spair when, with this evidence before his eyes, he must 
realize that despair alone can close out the mercy and 
the pardon of God. 

How different is the case of Judas! His fall is not 
merely that of human weakness. He sins with his eyes 
wide open, with malice and with obstinacy. In vain the 
Master again and again had warned him of the ruin which 
threatened him; in vain He called him by the tender 
title of Friend, even at the moment he betrayed Him 
with a kiss; in vain He knelt before him — the Son of 
God humiliating Himself thus before this wretched man 
— and washed his feet; in vain, too, all the offered 
graces of the first Eucharistic Feast. The pride and the 


122 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


stubbornness and the greed of Judas had utterly hard¬ 
ened his heart to all affection and to all grace, and so 
with an insolence simply ineffable he turned his back 
upon all these tender advances of the Master, determined 
that nothing should turn him from the realization of his 
iniquitous plan. He, too, was free, like Peter, to return, 
but we see only too clearly how he abused this freedom 
of his will. It is true that he, too, towards the end, 
realized the horror of his crime, and the thought of it 
tore his soul with anguish. There can be no doubt of this, 
for his sudden appearance in the temple, his words of 
confession to the High Priest, the disdain with which he 
hurled the sinful price of innocent blood upon the pave¬ 
ment of the temple, are clear indications of a terrible 
remorse; but his remorse was accompanied with no sign 
of penance. It was the hopeless despair of pride, it was 
the disappointment of baseness, not the repentance of the 
prodigal who sincerely wishes to return to his Father. 

Oh, if only, after returning the guilty money, instead 
of rushing down the valley away from the Master, he had 
turned in the other direction and had gone simply and 
penitently to meet Him, to throw himself at His feet and 
to acknowledge his awful guilt! But no, his pride carried 
him away farther and farther from the Fountain of grace 
and mercy. 

God is infinitely patient, it is true, but one must never 
forget that He is also infinitely just, and that divine 
justice, too, urges its patent claims even to divine mercy. 
And Judas himself, in the obstinacy of his sin, set the 
limit of divine justice as he cried out with Cain: “ My sin 


JUDAS 


123 


is too great to ever hope for pardon.” It was Judass 
himself, who, enfolded by infinite mercy, turned from it 
and demanded the sentence of infinite justice; and in his 
utter despair, defying God’s willingness to pardon, he 
ended his mortal life in unpardonable crime and thus 
condemned his own soul to eternal punishment. 


CHAPTER IX 

JESUS BEFORE HEROD 

Pilate, having now made up his mind to send Jesus to 
be tried by the Governor of Galilee, dispatched a mes¬ 
senger to explain to Herod the circumstances of the case. 
The Herod who at this time was the Governor of Galilee 
was Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great. The first 
Herod, though a simple adventurer, had become by the 
favor of the Romans King of Jerusalem and of all 
Palestine. He was called “The Great” because he lost 
no time in filling the city and the whole country with 
grandiose monuments, by which, as usual, he succeeded 
in impressing the people with his power, but in reality 
he was only a great tyrant. He defiled his hands with 
the blood of one of the high priests merely to get him out 
of the way, seeing in him a possible rival. Not long after 
this he killed his own wife, Mariamne, his wife’s mother, 
Alexandra, and condemned to strangulation both her 
sons, Alexander and Aristobulus, and he ended this 
miserable record of crime by the murder of the innocent 
children at the time of the birth of Christ. 

As he was about to die, with the consent of Rome he 
divided his kingdom into four parts — tetrarchies — 
assigning to the government of each one of them one of 
his four sons who survived him. The Tetrarchy of Judea, 
including the Holy City, was under the government of 
Archelaus, who very soon distinguished himself, like a 


JESUS BEFORE HEROD 


125 


true son of his wretched father, by every form of ini¬ 
quity, so that the Roman authorities were obliged to 
remove him finally, and, in his place, they sent a governor 
as ruler of the tetrarchy or province. At the time of 
Christ this Roman Governor was Pontius Pilate. 

The Province of Galilee was governed by another son 
of the great Herod called Herod Antipas. This ruler had 
married the daughter of the King of Arabia, but soon 
tiring of her he fell in love with Herodias, the wife of his 
brother Philip, and he ended by sending away his legiti¬ 
mate wife and taking his paramour into his house; and 
he dared all this in the face of the wrath of the King of 
Arabia and in spite of the Mosaic law, which condemned 
adultery with grave penalties. 

But the Jewish priesthood had only the vestige of a 
shadow of power left.. It had fallen low, and the only 
penalty which Antipas suffered was exclusion from the 
sacrifice in the temple. 

Saint John the Baptist, alone, dared to denounce this 
adulterous king. Strong in the courage which God gives 
to His saints, he raised his voice against the scandalous 
life of this ruler, whose example was already having a 
ruinous effect upon the people, and it would seem that 
the King, notwithstanding these open reproaches on the 
part of the Baptist, nevertheless revered John and showed 
great deference to him and to his counsels. 

But here was a clear contest. On the one side was the 
saintly Baptist with his fearless words of reproach, and 
on the other was the wicked passion of the King and the 
arts of a devilish woman. Before long it was clear that 


126 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the passion and the woman were the victors, and the 
woman, once sure of her position and her triumph, 
worked a horrible vengeance upon the saintly Baptist 
who had dared to stand in her way. Herodias and her 
wicked daughter, Salome, worked upon the mind of Herod 
until at last the Baptist was safe behind prison bars, and, 
not yet feeling secure, they determined that he should die. 
And so in the midst of a banquet given to celebrate 
Herod’s natal day, Salome, leaving her place at the table, 
went before the King and performed her lascivious 
dances, and with her diabolical arts she mesmerized her 
mother’s lover until passion, not reason, ruled him; and 
in the midst of his ravings, protesting his admiration for 
her, she suddenly made a request so abominable that 
evidently it was counseled by Satan himself: that the 
head of John the Baptist should be given to her on a dish. 

Herod Antipas, with all the rottenness of his heart, 
was a man keen and shrewd of mind. He knew how to 
deceive the world, with a cunning, which the world often 
admires, absolutely unscrupulous. He understood men 
and he knew how to wait until the proper moment came. 
Jesus understood perfectly the character of this unworthy 
ruler, and He sums up His opinion of him in one word, 
“ Fox!'* “ Go and tell that fox,” He said on one occasion, 
“ Behold I cast out devils, and do cures to-day and to¬ 
morrow, and the third day I am consummated. . . . 
It cannot be that a prophet perish out of Jerusalem.” 
(St. Luke xhi, 32.) The Master had well taken the 
measure of the Tetrarch of Galilee, and we shall soon see 
with what precision that measure fitted him. 



JESUS BEFORE HEROD 


127 


doming up to Jerusalem for the Passover, Herod took 
up his lodging in a palace to the north of the Fortress 
Antonia, in that part of Jerusalem which was called the 
new city, Bethsaida, not far from the celebrated pool 
having five porticoes where Jesus had healed the para¬ 
lytic some time before. 

The messenger sent by Pilate was received with honor. 
He was immensely flattered that the Roman Governor 
should thus show such consideration of him. He was 
doubly glad on account of the snub thus administered to 
the Sanhedrim and the high priests, who had had the 
impertinence to exclude him from the sacrifice. And so 
he prepared himself, arraying himself in all his glory, to 
receive Jesus with every possible solemnity. Hurriedly 
the members of his court w r ere summoned and also his 
guards who had accompanied him from Galilee to 
Jerusalem, composed mostly of Arabs and other bar¬ 
barians. He had all the vanity of his father as well as his 
malice, and he set out to impress the Jews with his great¬ 
ness and importance. At the same time there was some¬ 
thing more than mere show in this gathering of the 
guards, for he knew well the feelings of the Sanhedrim 
towards him, and he had no intention of exposing him¬ 
self, needlessly, to any hostile mood into which they 
might allow themselves to be betrayed. Seated in the 
midst of all these noble trappings, he folded his arms in 
silence and waited. 

He had not long to wait. Already he heard the mur- 
murings of the crowd, and soon the members of the 
Sanhedrim, leading the procession, entered. As the cries 


128 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


of the rabble grew louder, he secretly congratulated him¬ 
self that he had not forgotten to surround himself with 
his soldiers. 

At last Jesus stood before him. Long and silently 
Herod gazed at the worn figure of the great Prophet of 
whom he had heard so much. For some time past he had 
heard of the wonders wrought by Christ and he was filled 
with a great curiosity to see Him with his own eyes, and 
now here He stands before him at last. What thoughts 
at that moment filled the mind of Herod! St. Luke 
describes them (xxiii, 8) thus: “Herod seeing Jesus was 
very glad; for he was desirous for a long time to see Him, 
because he had heard many things of Him, and he hoped 
to see some sign wrought by Him. ,, 

In the meantime Annas and Caiphas approached him. 
They began in great haste to explain to the Tetrarch all 
the accusations made against the Master. In their hearts 
they despised Herod, but now they had their point to 
gain and they were all blandishments and obsequiousness. 
“True,” they thought, “this Tetrarch is a poor sort of 
Jew, but still a Jew he is,” and as a Jew they begged 
him to ratify the sentence of the Great Council. But 
Herod was shrewd. He heard all that Annas and Caiphas 
had to say, yet still silent he sat there pensive, while with 
half-closed eyes he peered curiously at the figure of the 
Master standing before him. 

The sight in some mysterious way stirred him at the 
same time with pity and with repugnance. In that 
moment he thought of the miserable crime he had com¬ 
mitted against John the Baptist. Not once but many 


JESUS BEFORE HEROD 


129 


times that sacred head in the dish had arisen before his 
mind to torture him with remorse, and now here he was 
asked to put to death this Man, the Prophet, the Naza- 
rene, of Whose goodness he had heard so much. Again, 
again, the head of the Baptist appeared before him. He 
heard the clamoring of the Sanhedrim about him demand¬ 
ing sentence. W'ell, why should he bother himself about 
the concerns of the Sanhedrim? They were certainly no 
friends of his. Besides, had not the Roman Governor 
sent word that he could find no cause for sentence in 
Jesus? Annas and Caiphas gabbled on with their accusa¬ 
tions and their imprecations. Still Herod sat in silence, 
peering at the face of the Accused before him. 

Christ remained silent. The fury of His accusers and 
the cool attitude of the judge moved Him not at all. He 
stood there imperturbable. He waited still in silence for 
Herod to begin the process. St. Luke says that Herod 
began to interrogate Him with many questions, talking 
to the Master at considerable length. The words of 
Herod the Evangelist does not give, but it is easy enough 
to fancy what they must have been: “ The Roman Gover¬ 
nor has sent you to me that I may judge you. You have 
heard all these accusations made here against you. 
What answer have you? I have heard many things to 
prove that you are extremely intelligent, in fact that you 
are very wise. Use your intelligence now and all the 
powers of your clever mind in rebuttal of all this testi¬ 
mony. What, still you remain silent? You utter no 
word in defense of yourself! I have heard, too, that you 
have done many wonderful things, many prodigies. Is 


130 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


it true that you restored sight to the blind, that you 
raised Lazarus to life, that you fed a great multitude 
with a few little loaves? You see, I have the power to set 
you free! Why do you not answer me? Why not now 
perform one of your wonderful and mysterious deeds?” 

Jesus still is silent. Irritated by the perfect calm of the 
Master, Herod still went on: “They tell me that the 
spirit of the Baptist, whom I beheaded, has come upon 
you. Is this true? Who are you? Why have you come? 
Who has sent you? What is the meaning of your words, 
your novel doctrine and your wonderful prodigies — if 
now you can say nothing and do nothing? One day many 
years ago three strange kings of the East came to my 
father’s palace. They were seeking the newborn King of 
the Jews, Who, they said, had just been born in Judea. 
Were you that babe? How did you escape the death 
planned by my father? Where have you hidden yourself 
ever since until a few years ago? Silence still? Oh, come, 
tell me, are you really the Messias? To tell you the truth, 
you have no appearance of royalty about you. Still, tell 
me, tell me, what are you? Why have you come? What 
is your purpose? Come, come, defend yourself!” 

In vain. Still Jesus stood there and spoke not a word. 
There was nothing provoking in His attitude, neither 
was there any sign of the suppliant. His sacred counte¬ 
nance gave no sign either of fear or pain, neither did it 
bear any sign of anger or of indifference. Clearly the 
thoughts of the Master were elsewhere, far, far from the 
scene in the midst of which He now stood. Looking 
calmly at the spot where Herod was seated before Him, 


JESUS BEFORE HEROD 


131 


He saw beyond and behind Herod all the wickedness of 
his past life. He saw rising up before the King the terri¬ 
ble chastisements which he was calling down upon his 
own head. The tears flooded His eyes at the sight, but 
His sacred lips uttered no sound of defense for Himself, 
neither did they express an admonition to the heart of 
the King already stifled with sin. 

Herod still waited for an answer, and, entirely misin¬ 
terpreting the expression of Christ’s countenance, or 
perhaps feeling that instead of judging he was being 
judged, he was suddenly stirred with a deep irritation. 
This man scarcely deigned to notice either his desire for a 
sign or a miracle, or his request for some show of defense. 
All about were the high priests and many of the important 
people of Jerusalem. They were keenly aware of the atti¬ 
tude of the Master towards Herod, thus increasing his 
unbearable embarrassment. 

The high priests, noting the changing sentiment of 
Herod, urged him on to give sentence. Meanwhile the 
shrewdness and astuteness of the “Fox” did not desert 
this son of the great Herod. He began to reflect in this 
manner: “This Man here before me is accused of pre¬ 
tending to be the Messias, that is, the Great King, the 
Ruler of the World, so long expected. What an absurdity! 
Evidently, these pretensions on the part of the young 
Prophet prove clearly that He is a visionary more mad 
than guilty. Ah, this is the true key to the situation. I 
shall treat Him as a fool and send Him back to the 
Roman Governor without sentence of any kind.” 

The game on the part of Herod was certainly clever 


132 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


enough. He would escape the dread of remorse and thus 
liberate himself from the embarrassment of a very serious 
situation. So over the sacred Body of the Man-God was 
thrown the white garment of the fool. It is true that this 
was a sign among the Jews that the bearer had lost his 
mind, was, in fact, the victim of hallucinations; but they 
forgot at that moment that it was also the symbol of 
imperial dignity; they forgot that it was the particular 
privilege of the kings of the Orient; they forgot, too, that 
it was the vestment of those who had been declared 
innocent before the tribunal. All these meanings for the 
moment were forgotten and one only, the public declara¬ 
tion of the folly of this man, was in their minds. St. 
Luke writes: “Herod with his army set Him at nought, 
and mocked Him, putting on Him a white garment.” 
(St. Luke xxm, 11.) 

The enemies of Christ were far from being satisfied. 
They still pestered Herod with their clamors for judg¬ 
ment. But the “Fox” could not be so easily trapped. 
Rising in his place, he ordered the soldiers immediately 
to conduct the accused Prophet out of his house and take 
Him back to Pilate. 

The high priests and the Sanhedrim were by this time 
more furious than ever. This game of Pilate and Herod 
had gone on long enough and they determined to end it. 
Right and left, hither and thither, they sent their mes¬ 
sengers to gather all the people before the palace of 
Pilate, by their appearance of anger and by their 
menacing threats to compel the Roman Governor at last 
to end this ridiculous pretense of doing them justice. 


JESUS BEFORE HEROD 


133 


when in reality he was only evading the difficulty. They 
filled the ears of the mob now gathering in the streets 
with renewed accusations, with lies of every kind against 
the hated Prophet. The crowd grew larger and noisier 
and fiercer at every step as they marched again towards 
the house of Pilate. They did not return by the same 
way they had traversed in coming to the house of Herod. 
Instead, they took a longer route through the city, thus 
purposely to infuriate the more the gathering mob and 
to instill among the growing rabble all the hatred which 
they themselves felt towards Jesus. This time Pilate 
must act and he must be made to see that all the popula¬ 
tion were of one accord. Surely, he would never dare to 
deny this time what they had determined to insist upon 
at any cost, the sentence of death against the Master. 

It is not out of place to consider here a thought which 
naturally has come to our minds in reviewing the scene 
thus described. To the interrogations of Annas and 
Caiphas as well as to those of Pilate, Christ gave an 
answer in such form as He desired. To Herod He answers 
not a word. We may be permitted to conjecture at least 
the reason of the Master’s silence at the court of Herod. 
Some writers imagine this reason to be the fact that 
Herod had no jurisdiction over Jesus, but this can hardly 
be the real reason since that is also true of Annas, 
Caiphas, and Pilate. In fact, later in this sad story we 
shall see that Christ directly manifests this to Pilate in 
these words: “Thou wouldst have no power over Me 
unless it had been given to thee from above,” indicating 


134 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the real source and origin of any power or jurisdiction 
whatsoever over the person of the Prophet. 

Others conclude that the reason that Christ remained 
silent, in spite of every endeavor on the part of Herod to 
arouse Him to answer, was that this Herod had been 
excommunicated by the Sanhedrim and forbidden to 
appear in the temple at the time of the sacrifice, because 
of his life of adultery. It is true that the Synagogue had 
inflicted upon Herod the penalty called “niddui” — 
separation. Now, this penalty did not prohibit others to 
speak to the one thus punished; it only prescribed that 
no one should approach nearer than four cubits the per¬ 
son thus excommunicated. Therefore Our Blessed Lord, 
even yielding, as He did, proper deference to the Mosaic 
law, might have answered Herod without any breach of 
legal propriety. 

As a matter of fact, we see in the description of the 
Evangelists that the high priests and the members of 
the Sanhedrim did converse with Herod concerning the 
accusations they had brought against the Master. With 
greater reason, therefore, Jesus might well have raised 
His voice in His own defense. So that no one of these 
reasons seems to solve the question. 

But there was another reason which might well be the 
real one. Herod was an adulterer, living in open con¬ 
cubinage with Herodias. Besides this, he had put John 
the Baptist to death, moved to this awful crime by his 
passion for his paramour. Clearly he was a very low and 
base type of man, guilty of the most heinous crime. 
Certainly, it must have been most repugnant to the soul 


JESUS BEFORE HEROD 


135 


of the all holy Son of God to hold intercourse with such a 
wretch. Still, Christ had shown His tender mercy, even 
the tenderest compassion, towards sinners. Why, then, 
silence in this case? Without doubt it was because Christ 
saw in the sinful soul of Herod not merely sin but the 
stubbornness of impenitence. While that perversity was 
evident Christ would make no advances. It was not 
through any desire on the part of Herod to obtain the 
pardon of God through the Prophet that he had desired 
so much to see Him. It was a whim of vulgar curiosity. 
Not only was Herod’s heart filled with base passion, but 
his character was that of a fox, shrewd, cunning and 
calculating. There was nothing of impulse that might 
possibly have excused his deeds. It was just from pure 
selfishness and cruel cold-heartedness, that the intolerable 
vanity of the man and his insatiable curiosity arose to the 
surface on this occasion. 

He was anxious to see the Prophet perform a miracle. 
Even this was merely a vulgar craving for some new 
emotion, some new thrill, not certainly from any desire 
of real proof of Christ’s Divinity. The Master read his 
soul through and through. From its blackness no ray 
either of penitence or of sorrow or of the desire to amend 
shone out. One tender glance had moved Peter to the 
depth of his soul. No kindly look, no meek word would 
have penetrated the stubbornness, the selfishness and 
the vanity of this man. And so the Master, standing 
before him, seemed to gaze not at him but through him, 
and no word passed His lips. 

Still, even by His very silence Christ offered to Herod 


136 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the favor of His grace. Surely Antipas must have had 
profound cause for reflection in beholding the Master 
thus immovable before him. He had heard of the prodi¬ 
gies wrought by Jesus. No doubt he must have thought: 
“There is something of the divine in this young Prophet/’ 
Indeed, St. Matthew tells us that he had the false idea 
that the spirit of the Baptist, whom he had killed, had 
entered this remarkable Rabbi. Consequently, it would 
be but natural that the Tetrarch should feel that the 
silence of the Master was in reality the keenest rebuke 
for the wickedness of his life, and in this way, we repeat, 
by His very silence, Christ was offering grace to Herod, 
with what sad results we know. Instead of softening his 
heart, it only served to harden him the more. The silent 
rebuke of the Master irritated him profoundly, and his 
answer to Christ’s silent invitation to amendment was 
only added outrage in publicly branding Jesus as a fool. 

And thus Wisdom itself, and Sanctity itself, was pro¬ 
claimed a fool before the world by a most impious sinner. 
He Who had wrought such prodigies as the world had 
never seen before; He from Whose lips came forth the 
wonderful discourse of the Beatitudes in the Sermon on 
the Mount; He Who spoke (as His enemies were forced to 
confess) as no man ever had spoken; the Eternal Word, 
the incarnate Wisdom of God, was labeled by a prince, 
guilty of the most monstrous crimes, as one demented, a 
visionary, a lunatic. He was not to be condemned to 
death, merely because He was crazy; not guilty of crime, 
only because He was bereft of intelligence. 

Oh, cruel and false judgment of the world, what a 


JESUS BEFORE HEROD 


137 


mockery of justice is all this! Well did St. Paul, doubtless 
with this scene in his mind, exclaim: “ The foolish things 
of the world has God chosen to confound the wise!” 

Oh, the infinite patience of Jesus, Who bears so meekly 
such intolerable humiliations, even from those most un¬ 
worthy! Not a word of complaint escapes His lips, and in 
silence, oh, such noble silence, He bears it all uncom¬ 
plainingly. 

What a lesson to us with our silly personal pride, so 
sensitive to every slightest imaginary offense, so quick to 
resent the slightest suspicion of an affront and so slow to 
pardon the least word of fancied insult! The golden 
silence of Christ is a rebuke, not only to Herod, but to all 
of us who, unlike the Master, are all too ready to resent 
everything which displeases us. 


CHAPTER X 

ONCE MORE THE PR/ETORIUM 

The Confirmation of the Innocence of Jesus 

Once Herod had decided to send the Master back to 
Pilate, he dispatched messengers to the prsetorium to tell 
the Roman Governor that the Tetrarch appreciated the 
compliment paid him by Pilate, and that he, in turn, 
agreed entirely with the decision of the Roman Governor. 
These were, of course, pretty compliments between these 
two men who hitherto had been rather unfriendly to each 
other. St. Luke tells us that upon that day they became 
friends. (St. Luke xxiii, 12.) The very presence of 
Christ had at least brought one good result. The declara¬ 
tion of His innocence made by both judges brought in its 
train the grace of mutual friendship and reconciliation. 

Meanwhile, in the Lithostrotos, the square beneath 
the prsetorium, gathered a tremendous concourse of 
people, for now the whole city was aroused and the very 
air was quivering with excitement. On came the San¬ 
hedrim again. The high priests and the Pharisees, the 
ministers of the temple, the rabble and the crowd of 
curiosity-seekers, always ready, then, as now, to follow 
in the wake of any excitement, and aroused by the mes¬ 
sengers of the leaders of the people, all set up a tremen¬ 
dous uproar and a fearful clamor for the purpose of 
making Pilate realize that they had come to the end of 
their patience. 


ONCE MORE THE PRiETORIUM 


139 


At the time of the Passover in the preceding year, the 
Roman Governor found himself face to face with a con¬ 
spiracy among the Galileans, and to put it down he was 
obliged to use force, and several had been killed in the 
skirmish. So, hearing the shouts of the rabble again in 
the forum in front of the palaee, he gave orders to double 
the guard, and they formed a cordon of troops, shutting 
off the crowd from the principal entrance to the palace. 

In coming up from Caesarea, his usual place of resi¬ 
dence, especially at the time of the Passover, he was 
always accompanied by a very strong body of soldiery, 
so that he felt fairly safe in believing that the dignity 
of the Roman authority would not suffer or be menaced 
with attack. 

Without doubt the Holy Virgin, the Mother of Jesus, 
was somewhere there present. The Evangelists say 
nothing of her presence in this particular place, but we 
hold as most probable that she, who, later on, stood at 
the foot of the Cross on Calvary and was at her place by 
the sepulchre after the death of her Son, should be now 
somewhere near Jesus as He went from judge to judge in 
this sad procession. Indeed, we cannot imagine that the 
Blessed Virgin, eager to follow to the bitter end the foot¬ 
steps of her beloved Son, should not with St. John and 
several of the pious women, her friends and the followers 
of Jesus, be there in some corner under the portico of 
the forum, looking on with sad eyes and tortured soul at 
all that was happening. 

And so the dreadful scene is set before our eyes. At 
the foot of the royal staircase in front of all the others 


140 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


stood Jesus alone. Just behind was a cordon of the sol¬ 
diery. On either side were the members of the San¬ 
hedrim and the high priests, and behind the soldiers an 
overwhelming crowd of the populace. Presently Pilate, 
coming forth from the palace, stands again upon the 
terrace above the royal stairway. With a motion of his 
hand he commanded silence and then signaled the priests 
and the magistrates of the people to come nearer that 
they might the more easily hear what he was about to 
say. “You have brought this Man before me,” he began 
in rather an irritated tone, “as a usurper and a con¬ 
spirator. I have interrogated Him in your presence and 
I found no cause of guilt in Him. I sent Him then to 
Herod and, behold! Herod sends Him back to me with a 
confirmation of my decision. Both Herod and I, there¬ 
fore, agree that He has done nothing worthy of death, 
so I shall punish Him and then liberate Him.” “Emen- 
datum ergo ilium dimittam.” (St. Luke xxm, 16.) It is 
clear that by this he meant the punishment of flagella¬ 
tion. 

But surely here is the most outrageous lack of logic! 
He finds no cause in Him, but he will punish Him. By 
what right and according to what law, human or divine? 
We can gather at least that when the Master came back 
to the prsetorium clothed with the distinctive habit of a 
fool, according to Herod’s orders, this made a certain 
impression on the mind of Pilate. On the first occasion 
his sympathy was entirely with the Master, Whom he 
considered to be the victim of the jealousy of these 
fanatical Jews, especially of the Pharisees; but now he 


ONCE MORE THE PR^ETORIUM 


141 


sees before him a visionary, and the prestige of the 
Master was much diminished in the mind of the Roman 
Governor. “Well,” thought Pilate, “although I have no 
intention of allowing these people to put Him to death, 
perhaps I can administer a lesson to Him and by punish¬ 
ment, not too severe, of course, arouse this visionary 
from His dream.” Here, without doubt, Pilate failed 
grievously in his duty. Unquestionably, as the Roman 
Governor, he might have sent the crowd away, rebuked 
them for their fanaticism, and then delivered Jesus out 
of their hands. This is precisely what even a simple 
tribune did later for St. Paul. Surely the Roman Gov¬ 
ernor had far more power and far more authority than a 
mere tribune. This he should have done, and he could 
easily have done it. Instead he made of himself a sad 
exhibition of stupid weakness. He showed himself to be 
not a just judge, but a compromiser, a mere follower 
of expediency, and following a policy of opportunism, 
utterly unworthy of him and of his office, he sought at 
the same time to liberate Jesus and to conciliate the Jews. 

The events proved that he failed in both plans, as is 
so often the case with mere compromise. As the high 
priests and the Sanhedrim heard the words of Pilate, 
they began to shake their heads and shrug their shoulders, 
to indicate that these half measures would satisfy them 
very little. As Jesus was led up the stairway by the sol¬ 
diers to undergo the torture of flagellation, they went 
back among the crowd and redoubled their efforts to 
arouse the people to further aggression and violence. 

Suddenly the Governor remembered that it was the 


142 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


custom to liberate one of the prisoners at the request of 
the people during the Passover. The origin of this cus¬ 
tom is not clear. The Talmud mentions it and Origen 
confirms it. Livy declares that the Romans themselves 
were accustomed at the time of certain festivals to free 
some of the prisoners. We have seen that the Roman 
authorities had deprived the Sanhedrim of the right of 
life and death, but as an act of condescension towards 
the Hebrew people now subject to Rome, the Roman 
law permitted the release of one under trial, as a part 
of the Hebraic ritual, commemorating the freeing of the 
Hebrews from slavery under the Egyptians. So, taking 
advantage of this privilege, Pilate, with the hope that 
they would allow Jesus to go free, said to the multitude 
below him in the piazza: “It is the custom with you to 
set a prisoner free at the time of the Passover. Which 
now will you liberate, Barabbas, the robber, or Jesus, 
Who is called Christ, King of the Jews?” 

Here again is another outrage to Christ, for this Barab¬ 
bas, who is now set side by side with the Master, is one 
of the worst criminals in the prison, one who had aroused 
the people to sedition and had been guilty of murder. 

Mark the words of Pilate: “Which do you choose, 
Barabbas, or Jesus called the Christ, the Ki ng of the 
Jews?” 

We see again and again that Pilate gives Our Blessed 
Lord openly and publicly this title of “King of the 
Jews.” Was it a cynical sentiment which prompted him 
to throw this insult at the crowd of fanatics beneath him, 
calling this visionary their King, or was it, as Tertullian 


ONCE MORE THE PR.ETORIUM 


143 


says, that into the mind of Pilate there had already begun 
to creep a vague conviction of the true dignity of the 
Master? In any event there is no doubt that in present¬ 
ing one of the worst criminals along side of this innocent 
visionary, he would force the Sanhedrim and the high 
priests to free the young Prophet; and, indeed, it could 
not occur to him that they would prefer to liberate the 
basest of criminals and to insist upon the condemnation 
of this meek victim of their wrath. But after all, again 
we see the Roman Governor following the path of com¬ 
promise and expediency rather than of justice. What a 
humiliation for the Divine Redeemer of the world! 

Leaving them for a moment to make up their mind on 
the subject of their choice, he w T ent into the house and 
there a messenger from his wife came hurriedly towards 
him bearing this solemn message: “Have nothing to 
do with this just Man, for to-day in a vision I have 
been much disturbed on His account.” (St. Matthew 
xxvii, 19.) 

According to tradition, the wife of Pilate was called 
Claudia. Her name is recorded among the saints in the 
Grecian menology. And Cornelius a Lapide believes 
that she was the same Claudia named by St. Paul in his 
second letter to Timothy. Doubtless, though a Roman, 
she knew a good deal about the Jewish religion, and some 
writers have described her as a proselyte, that is, one 
who, though not yet of the Hebrew faith, still adhered 
somewhat to the Mosaic law. 

However this may be, the fact is, that during the night 


144 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


she had the grace to see in a vision the figure of the 
Divine Redeemer, and when the morning came, hearing 
the tumult of the crowd in the piazza below the palace, 
she looked out and saw the weary and blood-stained face 
of Christ. She realized instantly that some terrible thing 
was taking place, and that, doubtless, this Man Whom 
she had seen in her vision was the victim of a horrible 
tragedy. Hastily she called one of the attendants and, 
trembling with anxiety, she bade him go at once to warn 
her husband, the Roman Governor, of her vision, and 
to entreat him not to allow himself to become embroiled 
in this tragic plot, hatched by the Sanhedrim against 
Jesus. 

Pilate again Protests in Favor of Jesus 

The Roman Governor was deeply stirred by this 
message sent to him by his wife and a great wonder filled 
his soul. Meanwhile, the high priests and the leaders 
were outside inciting the people to demand Barabbas, 
and not Christ, as the one to be freed on the festival day. 

Again Pilate returned to his place on the terrace and 
repeated: “Which, therefore, of these two do you wish 
that I should set free?” From all sides arose the shrill 
cry of the mob: “Not this Man, but Barabbas! Give us 
Barabbas! Away with this Man and give us Barabbas! ” 

Pilate stood stupefied at their rage and the infamy of 
their choice. He had hoped thus to be able to give Jesus 
His freedom while they worked their will on a robber and 
murderer. The sight of their frenzy utterly disgusted 
him, and yet he was too weak to take the path which lay 


ONCE MORE THE PR^TORIUM 


145 


clearly before his eyes. Even while he looked and listened 
to their mad cries he might well have thought what St. 
Augustine so beautifully expresses: “Oh, the fury of these 
fanatics! They wished to kill Him Who raised the dead 
to life and to set him free who had killed others.” 

Indignant at such baseness, and still hoping almost 
against hope to compel them to set Jesus free, he cried 
out: “What shall I do then with Jesus that is called the 
Christ, the King of the Jews?” This time their frenzy 
had reached the limit, and they shouted up to Pilate, 
with voices full of rage: “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” 
Still Pilate stood his ground. He was wavering, but had 
not yet yielded, and for the third time he cried to them: 
“But what evil has this Man done? I find in Him no 
cause of death. I will chastise Him, therefore, and let 
Him go.” (St. Luke xxiii, 22 .) 

The crowd rocked and swayed with wrath like so many 
madmen. It seemed as though Hell had let loose its 
venom and its fury. The high priests and the Pharisees 
threw their arms up in a menacing rage and they led the 
chorus of the mob to a higher pitch of frenzy. And then, 
and then, alas! Pilate’s weakness grew and grew. The 
sight of this raging multitude began to have its effect 
upon his wavering mind, so he liberated Barabbas and 
sent Jesus to be flagellated. 

The Flagellation 

For certain grave faults, especially for those against 
the flesh, the Jewish law prescribed the flagellation, but 
this punishment should never exceed forty blows. This 


146 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


penalty was usually inflicted in the synagogue by the 
ministers of the temple, and, though it was unpleasant 
enough, it was not usually cruel nor did it carry with it 
the mark of infamy. St. Paul himself, as he writes in his 
Epistle to the Corinthians, underwent this punishment. 
“Thrice,” he says, “was I beaten with rods; five times 
did I receive forty stripes save one.” (II Cor. xi, 24, 25.) 

Among the Romans it was quite another thing. The 
Mosaic law had restrained this punishment within 
human bounds, but the pagan world knew no limits to 
its cruelty. This we see clearly in the authentic descrip¬ 
tions of the sufferings of the Martyrs. The pagans, both 
Greek and Roman, had, it is true, a very high degree of 
civilization, but its refinement was merely external and 
below the surface was the fiercest barbarism. Side by 
side with the cultivation of beautiful literature and fine 
arts were the grossest bestiality and the most heartless 
sort of cruelty. 

The Roman law did not limit the number of blows. 
That was left entirely to the decision of the judge and 
often even to the whim of the soldiers who executed the 
sentence. No wonder, then, that we read from time to 
time that a prisoner subjected to the tortures of flagella¬ 
tion frequently died of the torment. Such a case Cicero 
records in the case of Cestus. In fact, even in fairly 
modern times this brutal form of punishment was used. 
The Russian knout and the British cat-o’-nine-tails are 
but relics of this savage form of punishment. 

It is not, therefore, to be wondered at, that the very 
thought of this penalty was enough to make one shudder; 


ONCE MORE THE PR^TORIUM 


147 


and yet how many Martyrs, how many young Virgins of 
the faith were compelled to undergo it, rather than offer 
incense to the idols! It is a sad commentary on pagan 
civilization to think that the Roman matrons frequently 
thus punished their own slaves. 

The ministers of the law who carried out this form of 
punishment were called lictors. When they accompanied 
the Prsetor or the other great magistrates of imperial 
Rome, they carried, as a sign of their office, an axe sur¬ 
rounded by whips. It was rather an abject kind of office 
and generally held by men of little feeling or sensibility. 

The place in which Jesus underwent this brutal punish¬ 
ment is fairly certain. The “Breviarius” of Jerusalem, 
written about the year 530, enumerates and describes 
accurately the various holy places of Jerusalem, and it 
mentions clearly the cell where Jesus was despoiled of 
His garments and scourged. During the period of 
Charlemagne, at the beginning of the ninth century, the 
author of the work called “ Commemoratorium ” assures 
us that the place of flagellation was still held by the 
Christians, although at that time the Mohammedans 
occupied the Holy City. In the twelfth century this cell 
was restored by the Crusaders. Again in 1618 it was de¬ 
stroyed by the Turks, but, two centuries later it was given 
back by Ibrahim Pasha to the Franciscans who guard it 
to this day. 

It is situated a little to the east of the arch called Ecce 
Homo. This arch was no other than a part of the great 
gateway which led from the public street up to the for¬ 
tress called Antonia, opening onto the great piazza called 


148 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the Lithostrotos. From all the evidence gathered from 
various writings as well as from recent excavations, we 
must conclude that this cell, in which Our Blessed Lord 
underwent the terrible torture of the flagellation, was at 
that part of the piazza opposite the great entrance, in a 
portico occupied by the guards of the fortress. 

Hither, therefore, Jesus was led, while to satisfy the 
people the weak Governor liberated Barabbas, the thief 
and the murderer. St. Augustine, in attempting to ex¬ 
plain in something of a kindly sense this action of Pilate, 
says: “He did it, not to persecute the Lord, but to placate 
the fury of the Jews, hoping that in this way he might 
soften their hearts and thus at least prevent His being 
put to death.” 

“Go, Lictor, bind the hands of the prisoner, veil his 
head and strike him with blows.” Such were the words 
of the legal command of the Roman judge whenever he 
condemned a prisoner to this penalty. The hands were 
bound, the head covered so that the cries of the victim 
might not be heard, so terrible was the agony. And yet 
the Evangelists merely write: “He was scourged.” 
They knew full well the horror of these words. The 
brevity of the statement of this torture shows that they 
dared not allow themselves any attempt to describe it. 
But many pious and saintly souls since that time have 
meditated upon these few words, and St. Bridget and 
Catherine Emmerich have left, as the fruit of their medi¬ 
tations, a description to make one tremble with horror. 

The clothing of Christ was torn from His Body. 
Quickly He was bound to the column where, often before. 


ONCE MORE THE PR^TORIUM 


149 


wretched malefactors had been whipped, and thus, the 
Son of God, to pay the penalty of the sins of man and to 
obtain for him God’s mercy, underwent a humiliation 
and a penalty which no words can describe. Isaias, seeing 
in the vision of prophecy this very scene, exclaimed: 
“He was wounded for our iniquities, he was bruised for 
our sins: the chastisement ©f our peace was upon him, 
and by his bruises we are healed.” (Isaias liii, 5.) 
Well may we meditate upon these words of the prophet, 
but only when in Heaven all is revealed to us shall we 
understand the immeasurable profundity of the grief 
of Christ and the penalty of sin. 

The dreadful scourging begins. Blow succeeds blow, 
inflicting wound after wound all over the Sacred Body 
of the Master. The flesh is lifted in horrid welts, the skin 
is broken by the lashes and the blood runs down over 
the shivering frame to the pavement below. It is the 
vision of the Prophets enacted, as it were, under our 
eyes:—“The whips have beaten Me and there is no 
sound spot in My body. I sought someone who would 
console Me and I found him not. I have become even as 
a worm and no man, the outcast of humanity and the 
castaway of the people.” And Isaias, contemplating this 
dreadful scene, exclaimed in horror: “There is no beauty 
in Him, nor comeliness . . . despised, and the most abject 
of men, a Man of sorrows, and acquainted with infirmity. 
. . . Surely He hath borne our infirmities and carried our 
sorrows and we have thought Him as it were a leper, 
and as one struck by God and afflicted.” (Isaias liii, 
2-4.) These words, it is true, apply to all the various 


150 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


scenes of the Passion, but they are especially verified in 
the flagellation. 

Our fancy almost refuses to picture the sight, so ter¬ 
rible, so horrible, so full of the vilest indignity. We close 
our ears at the sound of the whips descending upon that 
Saered Body and we are overwhelmed, beholding the 
tender and gentle frame of the Master writhing under 
each terrible blow. We hear the sad groaning which, try 
as He will to stifle, still comes as a sweet lament from the 
bruised lips of our sweet Jesus. And this pitiful moan is 
but another prayer lifted to Heaven for His persecutors, 
even in the midst of barbarous cruelty. 

At last the soldiers, utterly worn out by their efforts, 
cease the whipping. And here, according to the vision of 
many pious souls who have meditated all their lives upon 
the Passion, an incident happened, which at least we 
note, in passing. Moved at the sight of the sublime 
patience of Christ, one of the soldiers of the guard stepped 
out of the crowd and said: “Cease your cruelty! Enough 
and more than enough! Do you not see that you are 
killing this innocent Man? This is not chastisement. 
You are inflicting a death penalty. You have gone 
beyond your orders. Cease!” And cutting with his 
sword the ropes which had bound the Master to the 
column and, having thus spoken, he disappeared; while 
Jesus, overcome with utter weakness, fell upon the 
ground in the pool of His own blood. 

Here one is prompted to ask: — What sort of a column 
was it to which Our Blessed Lord was bound? Was it a 
short upright piece of stone or was it one of the columns 


ONCE MORE THE PRiETORIUM 


151 


supporting the roof of the cell? We know nothing certain 
about this. At Santa Prassede in Rome there is an 
upright piece of marble which looks like the base of a 
column. It was brought to Rome in 1223 by Cardinal 
Colonna, Legate of Pope Honorius III. It had been 
given to him in Jerusalem as the column to which the 
Lord was bound and was called the “Column of the 
Flagellation/* Fleury asserts that it was, indeed, the 
authentic column. But we may still ask; Was it the whole 
column or only a part of it? Here again we cannot state 
with certainty the answer. Ignatius of Smolensk, who 
visited Constantinople and the Holy Places in 1390, 
speaks of a column of the Flagellation in the Church of 
the Apostles in Constantinople and another in the Church 
of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. This latter one is 
still there in a niche and is jealously guarded by the 
Franciscans. It seems, therefore, altogether quite prob¬ 
able that the original column was a high marble pillar 
which afterwards, perhaps at the time of the destruction 
of the city, was broken into fragments so that these differ¬ 
ent pillars in Rome and in Jerusalem may be parts of the 
original column of the Flagellation. 

The whole Passion of Christ was borne by Him for all 
our sins, but, as the penalty of flagellation was inflicted 
according to the law especially on those who had sinned 
carnally, we may well believe that Our Blessed Lord 
underwent this shameful and painful torture particu¬ 
larly for the redemption of all those who, by lust and 
impurities, had called down upon their souls the anger 
of God. We may all blush for shame that the pure and 


152 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


innocent Son of God delivered Himself over to the sol¬ 
diers to be beaten mercilessly by them. His Eternal 
Father, seeing His humiliation and the indignities 
heaped upon His Sacred Body, would thus be moved to 
compassion and to the forgiveness of all who, in thought, 
word, or deed, had yielded to the temptations of the flesh. 

The Crowning with Thorns 

The long night of agony which had passed, the buffet- 
ings and the scorn which He had undergone since His 
capture in the Garden, all these now had culminated in 
the terrible indignities and sufferings of the flagellation. 
He had lost great quantities of blood. The fever of an 
immense fatigue overwhelmed His body, livid with 
wounds and blows. He was overcome with an awful 
thirst, but no one was there to offer Him help or con¬ 
solation. But it was not yet over. He must now appear 
again before the Governor. And so, as He was unable 
Himself to rise, they rudely lifted Him to His feet and 
threw over His wounded body His wretched clothing, 
now soiled with filth and blood. The voices of the 
rabble were still audible outside of the forum. They 
dared not approach the praetorium in that direction. 

There was another entrance, by a narrower staircase, 
which opened from the porticoes where the guard kept 
vigil, and this led directly to the interior courtyard of the 
palace. This is the staircase which the Franciscans show 
to-day as the Scala Santa, and which is, therefore, quite 
a different set of stairs from that set at the principal 
entrance of the praetorium near the arch of the Ecce 


ONCE MORE THE PR^ETORIUM 


153 


Homo. Both these stairs Christ had trodden at different 
times during the sacred hours of His Passion. Both had 
kissed His sacred feet, both had received the drops of His 
most Precious Blood which fell from His sacred wounds, 
and both, therefore, surely merit the veneration shown 
them ever since. 

The weakness which the Master now felt all over His 
body and the pain which He endured from the opened 
wounds made it impossible for Him to walk alone; and 
so we can see, in meditation, the rude soldiery half push¬ 
ing, half dragging Him along the portico, and then, step 
by step, with agonizing torture, ascending the stairs into 
the palace. “Milites antem duxerunt eum in atrium pre- 
tor ii.” (St. Mark xv, 6.) While they were waiting in 
the atrium for the word of Pilate to bring Christ before 
him, the soldiers, heartless and cruel by nature and by 
profession, amused themselves by ribald jokes and wicked 
games, of which they made the butt Our Blessed Lord. 

One of the accusations that one of these soldiers 
had heard formulated by the Sanhedrim was that He 
had called Himself a king. They knew, moreover, that 
Herod had just sent Him back to Pilate clothed as a fool. 
These thoughts suggested to their rude minds the game 
which they proceeded at once to play. Did not a king 
wear a royal crown and hold in his hand a royal sceptre? 
Well, they would crown Him now, and place in His 
hands the insignia of His royal dignity. They wove into 
a circle a prickly branch, the thorns of which, like long 
sharp nails, spread out all around it; and, seating Jesus 
upon the base of an antique column in the midst of the 


154 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


courtyard, they threw over His shoulders a ragged cloak 
of purple. “This,” they said to Him, “is your royal gar¬ 
ment, O King of fools.” And then, placing the thorny 
crown upon His head, they drove it down over His 
temples, while His Sacred Blood again fell over His eyes 
and down His cheeks and over His hair, already matted 
with the blood of the wounds with which His whole body 
was covered. And then, to complete the horrid picture, 
they put into His hands a reed for His sceptre. Here 
is the King of Kings treated in mock majesty before 
these inhuman soldiers. 

How little did they dream that through all the cen¬ 
turies the relics of this crown which they had woven in 
mockery would be venerated as no royal crown of gold 
and precious stones of any king of earth! To-day at 
Notre Dame in Paris, in the Basilica of the Holy Cross 
in Rome, in the great majestic Cathedral of St. Peter, 
pilgrims from all the world over have come for many 
centuries to salute the crown and the thorns which in 
brutal mockery those soldiers had placed upon the head 
of the King of Kings, in their eyes at that moment only 
a fool who had dreamt of His royal inheritance. 

Not once but many times through the centuries these 
sacred thorns have manifested the power of Christ, the 
Son of God. Again and again authentic witnesses have 
testified that on various occasions, but especially on 
Good Friday, they exuded drops of the color of blood, 
and the dead branch which had touched the Saviour’s 
head blossomed forth into beautiful white flowers. Even 
in our own time this wonder has happened before the 


ONCE MORE THE PRdETORIUM 


1 55 


eyes of credible witnesses. On Good Friday of 1910, and 
again in 1921, this wonderful thing happened in the 
Palatine Basilica of St. Nicholas in Bari. It was seen, 
not by a few people alone, but by an immense multitude 
of the faithful, among them many persons of high posi¬ 
tion, ecclesiastical and civil, and the fact of the miracle 
was legally attested by those who saw it. Besides these, 
many other wonderful signs have attested the sacredness 
of these relics of the crown of thorns which the soldiers 
had cruelly forced upon the head of Christ. 

But leaving these brief considerations, let us go on 
with the narrative. 

Jesus is now seated in the midst of the courtyard, His 
throne the base of an ancient column, upon His shoulders 
a ragged purple cloak, upon His head a crown of thorns 
and in His hands His sceptre, a poor weak reed. And 
this was the King of the Jews. To the eyes of these 
brutalized Roman soldiers the sight was one which 
aroused in them only the sentiment of a fierce merriment. 
They danced around His bowed figure, and as they passed 
Him they knelt before Him in derision, saying in mock 
humility the royal salutation: “Hail, King of the Jews!” 
Then, spitting on His Sacred Person, they seized the 
reed out of His hands and struck Him upon the head, 
calling out to Him: “Prophesy, prophesy, who is it that 
has struck Thee!” Not a word Jesus utters, no word of 
reproach, no word of complaint. Nothing but the perfect 
patience of the Son of God indicated His true royalty in 
the sufferings of that hour. 

In the same way that His flagellation was borne meekly 


156 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


for the salvation of all those who by thought, word, or 
deed would be guilty of carnal sin, so now this unspeak¬ 
able mockery of His royalty was endured for the sins of 
all those who, by pride and arrogance, would offend the 
Majesty of God. It was meant especially to give a salu¬ 
tary admonition to all those who sit in high places, who 
are entrusted with the government of peoples and the 
leadership of nations, that in witnessing the sublime 
patience of the King of Heaven, in the midst of such 
awful humiliation, they would be warned against any 
temptation to pride and insolence and arrogance; and 
that in suffering their hour of adversity they might re¬ 
member and be consoled by the sight of His Supreme 
Majesty, silent and patient under the most cruel priva¬ 
tions and humiliations. But while it is meant especially 
as an admonition to all those in high authority, it has a 
lesson for all of us, for who is there among us, be he ever 
so lowly, who is always free from the vanity of silly pride? 

The Ecce Homo 

At last Pilate sent out word to bring again before him 
this Victim Whom he had ordered to be whipped. The 
command of the Roman Governor permitted no delay. 
Pilate could not be kept waiting; and so the soldiery 
hurried Jesus just as He was before the ruler. At the 
horrible spectacle which Christ presented, a shudder ran 
through the frame of Pilate. He had ordered Him to be 
whipped, indeed, but surely he never imagined that the 
soldiers would go to such barbarous extremes. And what 
meant this crown of thorns, this ragged cloak about His 


ONCE MORE THE PRiETORIUM 


157 


shoulders? Instantly he read the signs. The soldiers in 
mockery had thus arrayed this Victim because He had 
said that He was the King of the Jews. He closed his 
eyes hoping to shut out the awful picture, and hurriedly 
he gave the command to bring the Prophet out upon the 
balcony above the forum, so that the priests, the San¬ 
hedrim and the rabble, gazing upon so pitiable a spec¬ 
tacle, would be moved inevitably to compassion, and 
would realize that He had now suffered enough: that He 
had now been sufficiently humiliated; that surely He was 
no menace to their nation. He hoped that, thus moved, 
they might at last let Him be sent away without further 
hurt. (St. Gregory the Great in his homily on the 
Passion.) 

While the soldiers, obeying Pilate’s command, led 
Jesus out to the balcony above the street, the Governor 
again came into the courtyard and took his place on the 
terrace at the head of the great staircase below which 
the crowd still waited for his judgment. At that moment 
Christ appeared among the soldiers on the balcony above 
the great gateway, and Pilate, pointing to Christ, shouted 
to the people below: “Behold the Man!” 

At the sight of that sad face with the thorny crown 
piercing His forehead, His eyes, so tender and beautiful, 
bathed in tears and in blood. His hands, so delicate and 
trembling, bound with knotted ropes, still holding the 
broken reed — at the sight of such a Victim, One Who 
had never done them aught of harm, but Who had bene¬ 
fited them in a thousand ways, an evident shudder ran 
through the crowd. Was it a shudder of compassion or 


158 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


merely of surprise? The gentle eyes of Christ looked 
down with infinite tenderness upon the mob below Him. 
It was a glance of mercy, another grace granted, even 
then, to the wretches, whose hearts remained so obdurate. 
It was as if by this look of divine love He still hoped to 
win them away from further cruelty and more inexorable 
crime. His lips moved not, but His eyes gazed implor¬ 
ingly on them. “Ah, my people, is not this enough? Will 
you not, at least now, place a limit to your heartless 
violence? Must you go still further, and, by even worse 
infamy, close the gates of God’s mercy as you open the 
gates of His Eternal Vengeance? ” 

Trembling, Pilate looked on. Still he hoped, observ¬ 
ing that for a moment profound silence ruled the mob, 
that at last they were satisfied. 

And below in an angle of the forum Mary, too, watched 
and trembled. 

Then illusion — the next moment, a cry more cruel 
than ever rent the air. The high priests and the San¬ 
hedrim were quick to recognize that this was only 
another maneuver of the Roman Governor, hoping to 
move the hearts of the people. They were enraged more 
than ever against Pilate now, and, rushing among the 
crowd, they roused them from their momentary silence 
into howls and yells of fanaticism. At first the crowd 
gave vent to a low grumbling murmur, and then, led by 
the high priests, they began fairly to scream: “Crucify 
Him! Crucify Him!” At the same time they gathered 
at the foot of the staircase with faces so filled with 
hatred as to indicate to Pilate that he had better not 


ONCE MORE THE PR^TORIUM 


159 


trifle with them further. At the sight of such monstrous 
passion and rage, Pilate began to feel the deepest senti¬ 
ments of disgust and disdain for them, and so he answered 
them: “Take Him you, and crucify Him, for I find no 
cause in Him. ,, 

Here again is the strangest contradiction in the words 
of Pilate. With one breath he says: “I find no cause in 
Him, no reason to condemn Him to death/’ and, as legally 
the Jews could put no one to death without the consent 
of the Roman Governor, why should he in the same 
breath say: “Take Him you, and crucify Him’’? 

Now at last the high priests, driven to despair by the 
duplicity of the Roman Governor, formulated the real 
accusation in their minds against Jesus. Up to where 
Pilate was standing they sent this challenge: “We have a 
law and according to the law He ought to die, because 
He made Himself the Son of God.” Clearly, then, it was 
the fact that Jesus claimed divinity for Himself that was 
the chief argument of the Sanhedrim against Him, and 
the reason why they clamored for His death. 

St. John narrates that at these words Pilate was seized 
with a great fear. The Roman Governor was well trained 
in the law of the ancients, and had, like the pagans of his 
day, some vague idea of the divinity. Such religion as he 
had, when he thought of it at all, led him to see some sort 
of heavenly presence everywhere about him, in the seas, 
in the rivers, in the limpid springs and the groves and 
green orchards. He knew that Plato had spoken ob¬ 
scurely of one Who was to come as the Just One. He 
knew that dSschylus had written in wonderful poetry the 


160 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


prefiguring of one Whom he named as the Beloved Son 
of the Father, Who would come some day from Heaven 
and illumine the minds of all men. He knew, too, that 
Virgil, the great Roman poet, had spoken of some won¬ 
derful event foreshadowing the coming of God on earth. 
And yet, skeptic as he had been hitherto, he had given 
little consideration to such things. 

Now here in his presence stood One Who, according to 
those about Him, had done wonderful things. Even his 
wife, in a vague way, had hinted to him that very morn¬ 
ing that here was the just Man of Whom the poets had 
spoken. Again he looked over at the balcony where 
Jesus stood. The sight of the calm majesty of Jesus in 
the midst of all His sufferings, of the dignity which even 
His wounded frame and the ragged, purple cloak could 
not conceal, suddenly filled his mind with the terrible 
thought: “Can this really be He?” And with the sound 
of the accusation of the Jews still in his ears, again he 
said to himself: “Is it possible that this is the Son of 
God?” He gazed on the figure of Christ, so sadly patient 
yet so majestic in His calm, and a terror seized upon his 
soul, and suddenly he made up his mind to interrogate 
again the Prophet. He must know the truth. He must 
hear from His own lips what He had to say of Him¬ 
self. 

Turning his back upon the Jews, he walked slowly and 
thoughtfully across the terrace and again entered the prse- 
torium. He quickly summoned Christ once more before 
him. He bade Him come near to where he was seated. 
Then he rose and stood before Him face to face, a look of 


ONCE MORE THE PRdETORIUM 


161 


awful eagerness in his eyes, and he said to Him: “Whence 
art Thou?” (St. John xix, 9.) 

“Whence art Thou?” What could Pilate possibly 
have meant by such a question? Certainly no thought of 
the Prophet’s terrestrial fatherland was in his mind, for 
he knew well that Jesus was a Galilean. He had no desire 
to reveal to this Prophet the doubts now passing in his 
mind, and so he put his question in this vague way, 
hoping anxiously to hear the Prophet tell him clearly 
something of His divine origin. 

For some moments Pilate waited for the answer, and 
still no answer came. Why should Christ answer such a 
question? Had He not clearly told the Governor only a 
short time before that He had descended from Heaven? 
W T hy repeat it now? It had not moved Pilate to act 
justly before. Of what use, then, to say it all over? 
Christ made no answer to his question; and we realize 
now the perfect dignity of His silence. The skepticism of 
the Roman would impel him at best to begin a discussion 
with the Prophet. Jesus clearly foresaw the uselessness 
of such discussion. Besides, His very silence implicitly 
affirmed His divine origin. 

Pilate, however, instead of respecting Christ’s refusal 
to enter upon any discussion, became suddenly irritable. 
The pride of the Roman Governor began to assert itself. 
In the face of the silence of Christ, he began to feel that 
the Prophet did not show sufficient respect to the majesty 
of Rome, and so he rudely demanded: “Speakest Thou 
not to me? Knowest Thou not that I have power to 
crucify Thee, and I have power to release Thee?” (St. 


162 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


John xix, 10.) This pretense of supreme power on the 
part of Caesar’s representative could not be allowed to 
pass unanswered, so the Master, raising His head in 
solemn dignity, said to the great and powerful Roman 
Governor: “Thou shouldst not have any power against 
Me, unless it were given thee from above. Therefore, he 
that hath delivered Me to thee, hath the greater sin.” 
(St. John xix, 11.) 

How strange are these latter words! Yet their meaning 
was perfectly clear to the mind of Pilate. Their purpose 
was to indicate that, though the sin of Judas was greater, 
Pilate himself with all his compromises was still guilty of 
a great sin. And after these words, which must have 
made Pilate tremble, the Master in an undertone began 
to speak in a more intimate way with the Roman Gov¬ 
ernor, revealing to him still more of His heavenly doc¬ 
trine. The Evangelists do not tell us what these words 
of Christ were, but one thing is certain, and St. John 
expressly indicates the effect, that, Pilate thereupon 
sought to set Him free. (St. John xix, 12.) 

So the Roman Governor, his mind still agitated with 
conflicting emotions, stepped out again onto the terrace, 
and walking across the courtyard took his place once 
more at the head of the staircase where he was accus¬ 
tomed to address the people. His eyes wandered over 
the crowd of fanatics howling imprecations in the name 
of the Mosaic law. He read on their faces that they had 
not changed their determination to inflict the death pen¬ 
alty upon the Master. Nevertheless he said to them: 
“I repeat to you now what I have already tokl you, I 


ONCE MORE THE PRiETORIUM 


163 


find no cause in this Man worthy of death and I intend 
to set Him free.” The angry mob were only the more 
infuriated at these words. By this time the crowd was 
surging in threatening attitudes up towards the staircase, 
and on the roofs of the houses near by he saw that even 
the women and children had caught the contagion, and 
the air was rent with yells and screams of defiance to the 
Roman authority. 

The legionaries, realizing that the populace by this 
time threatened a violent uprising, looked at the Gov¬ 
ernor with anxiety depicted on their faces, as if to say: 
“A word from you and we will make short work of this 
mob.” Pilate had only to give a sign, but he had entered 
the path of weakness and compromise already and he had 
not the moral courage to turn back. The high priests 
and the Sanhedrim, their eyes fastened upon the face 
of Pilate, read instantly his indecision. They, keen as 
they were in such matters, struck upon an expedient 
which they felt sure would settle once for all the inde¬ 
cision of the Roman Governor, and they began to shout 
up at him: “If thou release this Man, thou art not 
Caesar’s friend. For whosoever maketh himself a king, 
speaketh against Caesar.” (St. John xix, 12.) 

Here we may note the daring impudence of these 
Jewish officials. When one accusation does not succeed, 
they instantly change their tactics and produce another. 
They began by declaring Jesus a malefactor. As this 
very generic term had no effect upon the mind of the 
pagan Governor, they then proceeded to cry out that He 
was a revolutionary and a rebel. Upon examination 


164 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Pilate also found these accusations to be false and with¬ 
out weight, so they returned to the combat and accused 
the Master of having made Himself the Son of God, and 
for that crime, guilty of an offense to be punished with 
death, here again Pilate remained unmoved. So at last 
they seized upon the only arm now left to them, abuse 
and threats. “If thou release this man, thou art not 
Caesar’s friend.” 

Pilate well knew what it meant to him if any such 
rumor as this reached Rome. He well knew the jealous 
character of those in supreme authority in Rome. Any 
doubt of the loyalty of the official the Emperor had 
placed in office became a very dangerous thing for the 
official. The mind of a tyrant can never brook the slight¬ 
est appearance of even a difference of opinion. All this 
was perfectly clear to Pilate, and, when the high priests 
shrewdly made use of this knowledge, they knew well 
what they were about. It was a dangerous thing, they 
well understood, to threaten the Roman Governor in his 
own palace, but, as they had tried every other expedient 
only to see it fail, they were now determined, even at a 
great risk, to use this last weapon in their hands. And 
they had reckoned well upon its instantaneous effect. 
“Thou art not Caesar’s friend!” Hearing this, Pilate 
trembled. 

He knew full well the suspicious character of the 
Emperor Tiberius, living aloof from Rome in his palace 
at the summit of the island of Capri. (Tacitus and 
Suetonius.) The Emperor’s record was a very bloody 
one. Detested for his enormities in Rome, he feared for 


ONCE MORE THE PR.ETORIUM 


165 


his own safety and so took refuge in the palace of Capri, 
which was practically a fortress, well guarded by the sea 
about it, which separated it from the mainland. Pilate 
knew full well that if any rumor of this scene reached 
Capri, his career would be abruptly ended, for the one 
thing that Tiberius never forgave in his officials was the 
slightest weakness towards any criminal accused of re¬ 
bellion against the Empire or the Emperor. 

These reflections gripped the mind of the Governor 
and drove him to consider how utterly futile it would be 
to hold out against this vicious crowd, capable of ruining 
him and his fortunes forever. And, after all, why, in the 
face of things as he saw them, should he risk his own 
neck to save this Man from His own people, who knew 
Him, His history, and His pretensions much better than 
he did? 

Still, the thought of a fearful injustice haunted him. 
The warning of his wife still rang in his ears. The inti¬ 
mate conversation which had passed unrecorded between 
Christ and himself, aloof from the mob in the piazza, 
had undoubtedly made a profound impression upon his 
soul. The battle now, as so often since, was between 
God and Caesar, between eternal justice and mere ex¬ 
pediency, between absolute truth and vacillating weak¬ 
ness, between the rights of Heaven and his own personal, 
temporal fortune. The struggle was fierce, but it lasted 
only a moment, and in the end selfishness won over truth 

4/ 

and right. And so Pilate, still trembling with a cowardly 
emotion, finally declared his decision to the people. 
The Evangelists give in a few words this whole story of 


166 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the battle for right and the triumph of evil. “When 
Pilate heard these words, wishing to satisfy the people 
requiring that He might be crucified, their voices pre¬ 
vailed and Pilate gave sentence that it should be as they 
required, and he released unto them him who for murder 
and sedition had been cast into prison, but Jesus he 
delivered up to their will.” (St. John xix, 13; St. Mark 
xv, 15; St. Luke xxiii, 24.) 

O wretched judge! You thought by condemning 
Jesus, Whom you knew to be innocent, to satisfy the 
unjust claims of the Sanhedrim and the mob, and by so 
doing to save your own head and your own fortunes, but 
oftentimes even shrewd selfishness defeats its own end, 
and such was the case with Pilate. Josephus Flavius 
narrates that within a very short time after this he was 
condemned to exile and finally he died a wretched death. 
How many a time during that exile the memory of these 
sins must have come before his vision! How clearly he 
must have realized that all his weak compromises availed 
him nothing! How often he must have wished that he 
had followed the higher promptings of his soul and 
turned a deaf ear to the voices of the mob and the urg- 
ings of his own baser nature! True, as St. Augustine 
remarks in this connection, his crime was great, but in 
comparison how infinitely greater the crime of the San¬ 
hedrim and the Jewish nation! 

Pilate, even to the very end, even after he had decided 
to deliver up Jesus to the mob, still clung to the hope that 
the guilt would not rest upon his shoulders. The rite of 


ONCE MORE THE PRdSTORIUM 


167 


purification, by which the Jews hoped to cleanse them¬ 
selves from the stains of sin and their defects, was well 
known in the Jewish law, but even among the pagans 
this idea of purification was not unknown. For example, 
the lustral water of the Romans had something of this 
meaning. To wash the hands in a public ceremony was a 
rite associated with an act of purification. 

With this idea in mind, Pilate called to one of his at¬ 
tendants to bring him water wherewith to wash his hands. 
Immediately a servant appeared with a ewer filled with 
water and a basin, and bearing on his arm a large linen 
cloth. Pilate stretched his hands out over the basin and 
the attendant poured over them the cleansing water from 
the ewer. The crowd watched him, wondering what now 
was in Pilate’s mind. They had not long to wait, for the 
Governor, turning towards them, said in a loud voice: 
“I am innocent of the blood of this just Man. Look you 
to it.” (St. Matthew xxvn, 24.) And, saying this he 
wiped his hands on the linen cloth offered him by his 
servant. 

If he thought that this shifting of all responsibility of 
guilt from his own shoulders to the Jewish people would 
move them finally from their murderous designs, he 
judged poorly. Nothing now could move them. In fact, 
every attempt of his to shift responsibility only infuriated 
them all the more, and so they railed back at the Gov¬ 
ernor, crying out: “His blood be upon us and upon our 
children! ” 

In these words and by this proclamation they accepted, 
not only for themselves personally, but for the whole 


168 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Jewish nation, the awful guilt of deicide. In that motley 
crowd all ranks of the Jewish people were represented. 
The Pharisees, the Sadducees and the Herodians, the 
scribes, the doctors of the law, the servants of the temple, 
the rich merchants and the rabble, all were there; and as 
from every throat arose this defiance to Heaven itself, 
they publicly accepted not only the guilt, but the awful 
punishments of God which soon would destroy them and 
their nation and scatter the remnants of a proud race, 
homeless wanderers, throughout the world. The words 
of the Evangelist are: “The whole people ” — “ universus 
pop ulus.’* And so as a race and as a nation they acted 
and not merely as individuals, and therefore as a race, 
until they had repented of their crime, the wrath of God 
would follow them. Not only upon themselves had they 
thus invoked the anger of Heaven in defiance of all right 
and even of all human law, but in so many words they 
acted as the delegates of their own children and their 
children’s children: “His blood be upon us and upon our 
children.” In the blindness of their passion they were 
defying the very powers of Heaven. 

Surely for the nation and for the race this inheritance 
of a penalty called down upon themselves is a dire legacy 
at the very thought of which we are moved to pity; and 
all during the centuries since that cry for the blood of 
Christ went forth, all during the long weary years since 
the destruction of Jerusalem and the dispersion of the 
Hebrew people, the Church of Christ has lifted her voice 
in sad lamentation. On the very day when she celebrates 
the sad memory of this event the prayers of her children 


ONCE MORE THE PRiETORIUM 


169 


are tenderly offered up to the all-just God, begging for 
this race and this people, once the chosen people of God, 
pardon, mercy, and finally forgiveness. The considera¬ 
tion of this public avowal, on the part of the Sanhedrim 
and the crowd, that they would take upon their shoulders 
and upon the shoulders of their posterity the whole 
responsibility moved even Renan to write: “If ever a 
crime was the crime of a whole nation, surely the death 
of Christ was such a crime.” 

It is true that primarily the heads and the leaders of 
the Jewish people were principally to blame, for the 
blindness of their passion was the result of the insin¬ 
cerity of their lives, the hypocrisy of their professions, 
the jealousy of their hearts and their selfish ambitions. 
The designs of God pointed to Jesus as the true Messias. 
They had but to read their own Prophets to realize this 
clearly, and of course they knew well all that the Proph¬ 
ets had to say concerning the expected Messias; but they 
had made up their minds as to the kind of a Messias they 
wanted and they would accept no other even if He came 
from God. 

Their Messias was to be a great and rich and powerful 
king. That was the sort of Messias worthy of the great 
and proud Hebrew nation. Their Messias must do them 
credit before the world. He must show these pagans that 
their king was a man of worldly wisdom, worldly glory 
and pomp and influence. Why, this Jesus was a nobody, 
son of a poor carpenter, a miserable Galilean with no 
rich or powerful relatives, no wealth, no worldly consider¬ 
ation whatever. In fact, he was a mere laughing-stock, a 


170 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


visionary; yes, a visionary, but a stubborn and conceited 
visionary. He had upset all their calculations. He had 
contradicted all their expectations. Such a man as this, 
— Messias! It was folly in the extreme; but not folly 
alone, it was highly criminal. This Man the Son of God? 
Why, this was not merely insanity, it was blasphemy. 

And so they argued on with themselves until in the end 
it mattered really very little whether this was God’s 
design or not. They would have none of it. They defied 
Heaven and impiously cried out to even Heaven itself: 
“We shall accept no such Messias as this. We shall put 
an end to all these foolish pretensions of this self-styled 
Son of God. We shall put Him to death, and we shall 
take upon our shoulders and the shoulders of our whole 
nation the responsibility of our action.” 

But the rabble, too, were to blame. Christ for three 
years had gone about among the people doing good. All 
over Galilee and Judea He mingled with the poor and 
the downtrodden and the outcast. They came to Him 
with their burdens and their griefs and He sat down with 
them, and with the deepest sympathy and compassion 
lifted the burden from their shoulders to His own. They 
brought their sick to Him and He cured them. Along the 
way He met the leper and He cleansed him. At the street 
corners the blind raised to Him their sightless eyes. He 
touched them and they saw. He spoke to them sweetly 
of the wonders of Heaven, of the beauties of the Kingdom 
of God, and so He lifted them out of their gloomy and 
drab lives into a world of Heavenly visions and glorious 
hopes. He gathered their prattling children about Him; 


ONCE MORE THE PRiETORIUM 


171 


He laid His divine hand upon their heads and blessed 
them. They wandered after Him day after day, hanging 
upon His words. In their wonder and their eagerness at 
hearing from His lips the charming and beautiful par¬ 
ables with which He knew so well how to portray the 
finest and most alluring ideals, they left their tiresome 
tasks and followed Him along the roads out into the 
fields. There, again and again, they sat upon the grass 
enchanted, inspired by His simple eloquence, clothing in 
the simplicity of their own speech the wonders of Eternity. 

They felt for Him the profoundest reverence as a 
Prophet of God. Men had never taken any care even 
to think of their souls or their burdens until He came 
among them. His name was upon every lip, among the 
people of the village, among the farmers in the fields and 
the fishermen by the lake. His figure was so full of a 
supreme dignity, touched with the tenderness of gentle¬ 
ness, that they realized that there was something royal 
about His person, something divine about His words and 
His deeds. And so on one occasion they gathered about 
Him and insisted upon making Him their king. And now 
here He is before them a criminal under trial for His life, 
and the worst accusation they now could bring against 
Him was that He had made Himself the King of the Jews. 

Oh, the inconstancy of the people! Oh, the fickleness 
of their popularity and their affection! Yesterday they 
were forcing Him to sit upon the throne as the royal 
descendant of David, to rule over them and to govern 
them, and now, because openly He has avowed Himself 
to be in very truth the King of the Kingdom of Truth, 


172 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


they turn away from Him; they listen to the base insinu¬ 
ations of the jealous Pharisees; they close their eyes to 
the memories of all that He had done for them and see 
only the malicious vision of those who hated Him. Yes¬ 
terday they raised their voices in loud hosanna and they 
strewed the streets with palms and welcomed Him as One 
Who came to them in the name of the Lord. Now they 
rend their clothing in frantic rage at the sight of this 
meek and broken remnant of humanity, crowned in 
mockery; and they too, like the Pharisees and the Sad- 
ducees, feel only ashamed of His pretensions to be any 
king of their nation. They rend the air with their cries: 
“Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” 

This was the voice of the people, which we are so 
often told is the voice of God! Woe to him who relies 
only upon such a voice! Alas for him who is fool enough 
to place his hopes in the fickle and ever-changing praise 
or blame of the constantly varying multitude, who 
to-day are swayed by this whim and to-morrow by 
another; who to-day follow in the wake of those who 
would lead them on to their highest destinies, and to¬ 
morrow, at a beck, wheel about and run in exactly the 
opposite direction! So, not only did the high priests and 
the Pharisees bring down upon themselves the vengeance 
of Heaven, but the condemnation of God fell with equal 
justice upon the foolish and fickle betrayals and treach¬ 
eries of the populace. 

Well St. Matthew writes: “Wherefore you are witnesses 
against yourselves that you are the sons of them that 
killed the Prophets. Fill ye up then the measure of your 


ONCE MORE THE PR^TORIUM 


173 


fathers . . . that upon you may come all the just blood 
that hath been shed upon the earth, from the blood of 
Abel the Just even unto the blood of Zacharias, whom 
you killed between the temple and the altar. . . . Behold, 
your house shall be left to you desolate.” (St. Matthew 
xxm, 31 to 38.) These words vividly portray the terrible 
malediction of God upon a people He had chosen as 
His very own. But they clearly and frankly had called 
God’s malediction down upon themselves, and sad as 
the thought must make all who consider it, that curse 
clearly still rests upon the whole Jewish people. In our 
compassion and our commiseration we cannot fail, even 
while acknowledging the supreme justice of God’s action, 
nevertheless, in pity, to pray that God’s justice may 
soon be satisfied and that His hand may be finally lifted 
from the bowed backs of the race He had once so much 
loved and had loaded with favors. 

From that day until this the Jewish people have 
bewailed their tragic fate. In Jerusalem, along the 
valley called Tyropoeon, rises a solid wall of enormous 
blocks of travertine. For about sixty meters in length 
the wall is uncovered. The rest of it is hidden by houses 
and by ruins, and this part of the wall exposed to view is 
called by the Jews the “Place of Lamentation”: “Kautal 
Maarbe.” It is known to Gentiles as the “Wailing Place 
of the Jews.” This wall antedates the time of Christ and 
forms a part of the support of the great piazza in the midst 
of w’hich arose the wonderful temple of Solomon, where 
now is the mosque of Omar. After the siege of Jerusalem, 


174 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


which took place about the year 70 a.d., the Jews were 
forbidden to enter the Holy City. Once a year, however, 
by paying a large tribute, they were allowed to come 
and weep before this ancient wall of their once beloved 
Jerusalem. Even to-day, when the Jews are allowed to 
inhabit the Holy City, though they are forbidden to enter 
the sacred precincts of the temple, they are free still to 
go down to the wall beneath and lament the loss of their 
temple and their nationhood. And there, in fact, they 
may be seen now gathered before the sacred wall, some 
bent in sad contemplation; some with the Sacred Scrip¬ 
tures in their hands reading again of the past glories of 
their race; others reciting the psalms of David; some, 
seated upon the blocks of stone about the place, their 
heads in their hands, pour forth their sad lament, while 
others, leaning their foreheads against the stones, kiss 
again and again the sacred wall and bathe it with their 
tears. 

Every Friday, or on the occasion of a festival day, as 
the sun sinks in the west, groups of these descendants of 
a once great people gather about the wall, the women on 
one side, the men on the other, and surely the spectacle 
is a sad one. Not the sign of a smile, not the least vestige 
of joy, is pictured on their sorrowful countenances. It is 
the remnant of the Jewish people bewailing the terrible 
destiny which has overcome everything in which they 
once had gloried. Out of the little group arises the sound 
of a solemn chant. It is the Rabbi who intones the sad 
litany of lamentation: “Here at the foot of the temple 
which is destroyed,” and the people answer in chorus: 


ONCE MORE THE PR^TORIUM 


175 


“Here we sit solitary and weep.” The litany prolongs 
itself and becomes sadder and more sad. They confess 
the sins of their forefathers, of their kings, of their 
priests; they bewail in mournful tones their terrible lot, 
and the litany ends: “May peace and happiness enter 
into Sion! May the branch of the root of Jesse flourish 
in Jerusalem!” For more than a thousand years this 
wall has heard these lamentations and these prayers, and 
so they will continue to go up to Heaven until the anger 
of God and His just judgment upon them are finally 
appeased. So that, putting aside the hardness and the 
unbelief of their hearts, they verify, at last, the divine 
promises predicted by St. Paul (Romans xi); and this 
people who once betrayed the Son of God, at last, kneel¬ 
ing down, will acknowledge His Divinity, accept Him as 
their Messias and become once again the friends of God. 
Then, oh, happy day! the glory of Jerusalem will return 
above the Holy City; then at last will peace enter into 
Sion. 


CHAPTER XI 

THE CONDEMNATION 

The Roman Governor, having made the cowardly deci¬ 
sion to yield to the clamors of the Jewish people, proceeds 
to declare the formal sentence of condemnation against 
Jesus. 

According to the laws and the customs of Rome, always 
rigorous in the matter of legal formality, the sentence of 
death had to be pronounced with all the solemnities and 
formalities established by the code. It must be pro¬ 
nounced in a public place by the judge seated in the 
judgment place — pro tribunali — and in the presence 
of the prisoner to be condemned. If any of these formali¬ 
ties were lacking, the sentence became null. This was a 
wise guarantee by which the Roman jurisprudence de¬ 
sired to safeguard public justice. 

The tribunal, called, in Greek, “Bema,” that is, the 
judgment seat, was constructed of solid stone and was 
erected high above the pavement of the courtyard before 
the palace of the prsetorium. Pilate, therefore, to carry 
out the sentence legally, should take his place seated upon 
the tribunal thus erected, and, have placed before him 
the prisoner, Who was Jesus. St. John thus describes 
the scene: — Pilate, hearing these words, “Crucify Him! 
Crucify Him!” had Jesus led out and he sat in judgment 
in the place which is called the Lithostrotos, in Hebrew, 
Gabbatha. That is to say, he had Christ, still bound, led 


THE CONDEMNATION 


177 


out of the prsetorium, down the staircase leading to the 
palace, out into the public forum, where the mob was 
gathered. From his place on the terrace, Pilate now de¬ 
scended the royal staircase and, passing through the 
crowd which the guard pushed aside to give room to the 
Roman Governor, he walked between the ranks on either 
side, glowering upon them with glances of contempt as 
he passed them. He then mounted the steps of the tri¬ 
bunal and sat down ready to pronounce sentence. A 
profound stillness reigned in the forum and the crowd, 
conscious of the solemnity of the moment, at last was 
silent. 

In the silence of that scene is typified the consternation 
of Heaven and earth. The fatal hour was about to strike 
which the Prophets of old had foreseen and predicted. 
The pagan world represented by the Roman Governor, 
and the people of God represented by this crowd gathered 
in the Lithostrotos, after long wrangling and discussion, 
after combating every inspiration of grace, every whisper 
of their hearts, had at last agreed. Jesus Christ, the Son 
of God, stood before the people of His own world waiting 
for the solemn sentence of death to be pronounced against 
Him, and in that solemn silence the angels of Heaven 
itself were still. 

A hush fell upon the whole earth and through all the 
courts of God. It was the end of an epoch. The sound of 
the death knell would soon be heard above the silence. 
The patience of Heaven had been exhausted. There was 
nothing left even for God Himself to do now but to wait in 
silence for the hour of a terrible doom to strike. And, as 


178 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


if to note the precise time of this epochal moment, the 
Evangelist notes with historic precision: “It was about 
the sixth hour.” (St. John xix, 14.) 

The Romans divided the day and also the night into 
four great hours, longer or shorter according to the season. 
The first of these hours began with the rising of the sun and 
ended in the middle of the morning, that is, at about nine 
o’clock by our time at the season of the equinox. The 
third hour began from this time and ended at midday, 
when the sun was in the zenith. The sixth hour began 
with midday and ended in the middle of the afternoon, 
that is, about three o’clock in our time and again in the 
season of the equinox. The ninth hour began at about 
three o’clock and ended with evening. The words of the 
Evangelists, therefore, mean that it was towards noon 
when Pilate ascended the tribunal to deliver the solemn 
sentence of death against Jesus; that is to say, it was 
about eleven o’clock according to our method of reckon¬ 
ing the hours. 

Let us return to the scene of the judgment. Pilate now 
realized that all his promises had been in vain and that 
in the end he had yielded weakly to the clamors of the 
high priests. From his elevated place in the tribunal he 
cast a wearied and impatient gaze first at the officials 
of the Sanhedrim and the high priests gathered about 
him, then with a long and sweeping glance he surveyed 
the motley crowd in the piazza. Finally, he let his eyes 
rest for a long time upon the form of the Prisoner before 


THE CONDEMNATION 


179 


him. It had been a long and weary morning for him, 
filled to overflowing with excitement and agitation. He 
salved his soul with the thought that he had endeavored 
in every way possible to escape what now seemed to be 
the inevitable. To the last, doubt haunted his soul. 
Even now, as he sat there, his mind was filled with a con¬ 
flict of thoughts, which only served to cover him with 
confusion. Suddenly he aroused himself. He must not 
expose the Roman dignity to further danger. He must 
have done with it all; he must rid himself at once and for¬ 
ever of this awful incubus which weighed upon his soul. 
The Roman formula of condemnation was exceedingly 
brief and peremptory. It was a short formula, but brevity 
is the sign of power, and in her legal acts, Rome wasted 
no words. Adjusting his toga, he leaned back in dignity 
and pronounced the solemn sentence which was to settle 
everything: “Ibis ad crucem”—“Thou shalt go to the 
cross”; and glancing towards the centurion, standing 
beside him, who was to carry out the sentence, he said in 
a voice of command: “I, miles, expedi crucem”—“Go, 
soldier, bring forth the cross.” Thus was passed the 
horrible sentence. 

With a brevity which indicated that all hope of escape 
had vanished, the decision was made. The final sentence 
of condemnation to death by crucifixion was passed by 
the representative of the Roman imperial authority. 
From that moment, Christ, having been publicly de¬ 
clared a blasphemer against the Synagogue, and a rebel 
against civil authority, could expect no mercy anywhere. 
There was nothing left but to await the utter completion 


180 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


of the awful tragedy. Casting His eyes meekly over the 
howling mob which now surrounded Him, Christ saw only 
too clearly that from this moment until death would 
mercifully deliver Him from His torments He could 
expect nothing at their hands but the vilest maltreat¬ 
ment and the crudest of cruel injuries. 

Now, indeed, had arrived the moment for the final 
triumph of the powers of darkness. 

The Blessed Mother of Jesus watched with eager eyes 
from a corner of the portico. Where she stood, accom¬ 
panied by St. John and surrounded by some of the pious 
women, she could see Pilate as he walked majestically 
across the courtyard, and, with dignified steps, mounted 
the tribunal. Breathlessly she waited to see what the 
Roman Governor would finally do. She had not long to 
wait. At last the words of the sentence of death, pro¬ 
nounced firmly and authoritatively by the Governor, 
reached over the agitated multitude to where she, half 
hidden, was standing. Again the sword of sorrow entered 
her tender heart. She knew now that all hope was in 
vain. The Blessed Mother was almost on the point of 
swooning when St. John and the holy women gently and 
tenderly put their arms about her and silently led her 
away. 

Having now delivered himself of the dread incubus 
which had been weighing upon his soul, Pilate, pluming 
himself upon his fine conduct of the case, arose, gathered 
his toga about him in graceful folds, and descended ma¬ 
jestically the steps of the Bema. Feeling more than ever 
the importance of his office, he looked superciliously at 


THE CONDEMNATION 


181 


those about him, and with a dignified tread, accompanied 
by the guard, he walked across the forum, w T hile the rabble, 
in grateful acknowledgment of his judicial wisdom, bowed 
obsequiously before him as he passed. At the foot of the 
staircase which led to the interior court of the palace 
above, he hesitated for a moment. Turning slightly back 
and looking over his shoulder, he glanced for an instant 
only at the Prisoner he had just condemned, already in 
the midst of His torturers. 

Though a weak man, undoubtedly Pilate was not utterly 
bad. All through the case he could scarcely conceal a 
certain note of sympathetic understanding of Jesus. He 
had allowed his weakness to be played upon by fear, but 
his soul was far from feeling complete satisfaction in the 
scene which had just transpired. He was beginning 
already to feel the consequences. 

So, slightly shrugging his shoulders as if to say to him¬ 
self: “What was there left for me to do?” he suppressed 
a sigh and then slowly and pensively mounted the steps, 
crossed the courtyard and entered the palace. 

Down below in the forum the tumult was at its height. 
The air was filled with imprecations and the filthy speech 
of the rabble. Some of the crowd, already w r eary of the 
agitation of the whole morning, left the piazza and wearily 
wandered homeward. Others, their curiosity still un¬ 
satisfied, pushed and crowded hither and thither in an 
attempt to get a closer look at the face of the Victim; and 
in the midst of all the hurly-burly were the high priests 
and the officials of the Sanhedrim, who, now that they 
had forced Pilate to yield, urged the soldiers to hurry 


182 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


along the execution of the sentence. The day was fast 
passing and the evening would be the great vigil of the 
Passover, when the Law demanded that the people should 
do no more work, but should retire to repose preparatory 
to the great feast. So it was urgent at all costs that the 
Victim should be hurried to the place of execution as 
soon as possible. The cursed work finished, priests and 
people could return to their homes and prepare for the 
sacrifices. 

Indeed, according to both the Roman and the Hebrew 
law, the sentence of death should be followed as soon as 
possible by execution of the victim. So, in haste and in 
fury the cross was dragged out across the square, the 
soldiers took their places, and the priests formed the 
procession. The vile rabble, hungry only for some more 
excitement and agitation, ran about hither and thither 
trying their best to secure places from which they could 
see all that was happening. 

There in the middle of the square the guards rudely 
began to strip Christ of His clothing, and, first of all, they 
seized the ragged, purple cloak with which they had 
clothed Him in mockery of His royalty. They then pro¬ 
ceeded with rough hands to tear the crown of thorns from 
His wounded head. St. Matthew (xxvii, 31) says: 
“. . . They took off the cloak from Him and put on Him 
His own garments.” 

The clothing of one condemned to death belonged by 
right to the soldiers who executed the sentence: it was 
the perquisite of their office. We can well imagine the 


THE CONDEMNATION 


183 


ribald jests and the coarse jokes which during this pain¬ 
ful scene were bandied about among the brutal soldiery. 
What was this Man now to them but a condemned crim¬ 
inal? And, as so frequently happens, he w T ho has lost the 
favor of the crowd may well expect the most unfeeling 
and heartless treatment from it. The pure and innocent 
Jesus was compelled to stand shivering in His nakedness, 
while, without sense of shame or decency, and least of all 
of any slightest tinge of modesty, these hardened wretches 
tore from His wounded Body His cloak and tunic, which 
adhered to the congealed blood of His multiplied wounds. 

From out the portico into the piazza another band of 
soldiers marched, guarding between their ranks two 
other criminals who had also been condemned to the cross. 
They were a pair of brigands, a band of which had in¬ 
fested the desert between Palestine and Egypt and who 
lived by murder and highway robbery. (St. Luke xxm, 
32.) The high priests were determined that nothing 
should be left undone w T hich might rob Jesus of the slight¬ 
est right to sympathy on the part of the crowd, thus 
to indicate that He was worthy only of infamy and deri¬ 
sion. Therefore they obtained from the court permission 
to execute at the same time these two robbers, infamous 
for their public crimes against the lives of Jewish citi¬ 
zens and against the well-being of the State. They thus 
shrewdly planned that these two wretches should accom¬ 
pany Jesus, so that the crowd might understand that He, 
like them, was a menace to the Jews and an enemy of the 
State. 

At the same time some of the soldiers dragged forth the 


184 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


other two crosses upon which these two robbers would die. 
The custom of the Romans was to compel the condemned 
man to carry his own cross upon his shoulders from the 
place of judgment to the place of execution. We know 
this on the authority of Plautus and other Latin writers. 
That this penalty also was inflicted upon Christ we know 
by the express testimony of St. John: “And bearing His 
own cross, He went forth.” (St. John xix, 17.) And, in¬ 
deed, Our Blessed Lord had foreseen and foretold that 
this should happen when He said to His Apostles: “If any 
man will follow Me, let him deny himself, and take up his 
cross and follow Me.” (St. Mark vm, 34.) 

The Title of the Cross 

Suetonius tells us that, according to Roman custom, 
when a slave was crucified, one of the soldiers headed the 
procession marching toward the place of execution, carry¬ 
ing what was known as the title. This was a large tablet 
upon which might be read the cause of the condemnation. 
Eusebius tells us that Attalus, the glorious martyr of 
Lyons, bore such a title upon his breast as he came into 
the amphitheatre to be killed. In fact, we see the carry¬ 
ing out of this custom narrated in many of the acts of the 
early Martyrs. 

This Roman usage was also the custom among the 
Hebrews. At the head of the procession a herald cried out 
the name of the prisoner, the crime and the penalty, and 
he invited all those who heard him to disprove, if they 
could, the justice of the sentence. The judge in the case, 
alone, had the right to inscribe upon the title whatever 


THE CONDEMNATION 


185 


words he thought might indicate the cause of his sentence. 
In the case of Jesus, it was the duty of Pilate to carry 
out this custom. So one of the officials, sent by the cen¬ 
turion who was to oversee the work of execution, ran to 
the Governor and asked him to inscribe the title which 
would precede Christ in the cortege, and which would 
finally be nailed to the cross above His head. 

To this request of the officer Pilate answered gloomily: 
“Write upon that title, ‘Jesus of Nazareth, King of the 
Jews.*” Struck with surprise at Pilate’s command, the 
officer hesitated; but Pilate, now irritated by the officer’s 
delay, made an imperious gesture, and so the guard wrote 
slowly and carefully the words, first in Hebrew, then in 
Greek, and finally, underneath the other two, in Latin, 
the title of Jesus Christ upon the Cross: “Jesus of Naza¬ 
reth, King of the Jews.” 

Once again, whatever may have been in the mind of 
the Roman Governor, the eternal and inscrutable designs 
of God were being infallibly fulfilled. Even to the very 
last, the predictions of the holy Prophets were being 
verified in every detail. Not all the insane hatred and 
jealousy of the Great Council of the Sanhedrim, not all 
the weakness and vacillation and perfidy of the repre¬ 
sentative of the imperial power of Rome could, in the 
end, prevail against a power in Whose hands they were 
but the veriest pigmies. And thus to the Jewish nation, 
blinded by selfishness, to the high civilization of Greece, 
whose refinement was only superficial, to the great Ro¬ 
man world, the world of power and majesty and conquest, 
this title proclaimed that the glory of God was revealed 


180 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


forever in the humiliations and sufferings of Christ Jesus, 
the Redeemer of mankind. 

This title almost in its entirety is still preserved in the 
Basilica of the Holy Cross in Rome. Upon the millions 
and millions of crucifixes venerated with love by the 
faithful now, and in all centuries, that glorious title still 
holds its honored place. 


CHAPTER XII 

THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 

We read in the ancient Latin authors, Tacitus and Sen¬ 
eca, for instance, that, according to Roman law, when the 
judge had no lictors in his court, a privilege reserved only 
to the supreme magistrates of the Republic, the sentence 
of death was given for execution to a centurion, that is, 
a captain, the head of a company. Pilate, being simply 
the Roman Governor of Judea, had no lictors among the 
officials of his court, and so, as the law prescribed, a cen¬ 
turion with a company of soldiers was delegated to carry 
out the sentence. This centurion, we shall later see, was 
not only a witness to the death of Jesus upon the Cross, 
but afterwards, touched by divine grace, gave glorious 
testimony of his faith — the grace granted him at the 
foot of the Cross. 

Alongside the Roman soldiers, the Pharisees, mounted 
upon horses, took part in the sad procession which now 
was forming in the courtyard. The leaders of the Syna¬ 
gogue, desirous of manifesting to the whole people that 
they had succeeded in their fatal work, sat proudly upon 
their horses and still urged on the multitude of the Jews. 
Thus, the Jew and the Gentile, representing the world 
of that time, took their full share of the dreadful respon¬ 
sibility of shedding the blood of the Son of God. Thus, 
too, gazing at both Jew and Gentile at the foot of His 
Cross, Christ begged His Father that His Sacred Blood 


188 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


would bring final salvation to both Jew and Gentile. 
Raised above the earth, He prayed that He might draw 
all hearts towards Him and so at last bring both Jew and 
Gentile into the unity of that divine family, which is His 
Church. 

It is true, indeed, that the Sanhedrim had publicly 
accepted all the responsibility for the death of Jesus and 
had openly cried out to Pilate: “His blood be upon us 
and upon our children.” But God in His great mercy did 
not ratify this sacrilegious oath, for out of the Jewish 
nation and the Hebrew race were to come soon the most 
faithful and loyal followers of Jesus, who willingly would 
lay down their lives for love of Him; and from that time 
until the end of all time, the mercy of God is ever ready 
to receive into His sacred fold the descendants of those 
who so impiously called down upon their whole race the 
wrath of God. Peter and James and John and the other 
Hebrews who, at the sight of Christ upon the Cross, 
struck their breasts and went down to the city with the 
seed of faith in their souls were soon to testify that the 
mercy of God was greater than the perfidy of their leaders. 
There, in the very city of Jerusalem, would soon be born 
the infant Church; there the root of the great tree would 
come forth, whose branches should extend to the farthest 
limits of the world. 

The merits of the blood of Christ would overcome the 
false designs of the heartless Sanhedrim. As St. Augustine 
so beautifully writes: “The blood of Christ was shed for 
the redemption of all sinners, and so infinite was its value 
that it blotted out even the sins of those who had shed it.” 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


189 


The day when the Hebrew people, opening their eyes 
at last to the true light of Heaven, will acknowledge the 
sin of their nation and weep for the punishments their 
rulers have brought upon them will be a day filled with 
the tender mercy of God. On that day, as St. Paul tells us, 
they will be engrafted upon the Tree of Life, which is the 
Church. Let us pray God that some day will be realized 
the prayer of Christ: ‘‘And there shall be one flock and 
one Shepherd.” And here, too, we may well repeat those 
other wonderful words of St. Paul: “Oh, the depth of the 
riches, of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God! 
How incomprehensible are His judgments and how un¬ 
searchable His ways!” (Romans xi, 33.) 

The Place of the Crucifixion 

According to Roman custom, the crucifixion took place 
outside the city at a point where several roads verged, so 
that the passersby might be terrified at the sight of this 
awful penalty; and the Jewish custom in this coincided 
with that of the Romans. From the time of Moses to the 
time of the martyrdom of St. Stephen, we find that the 
sentence of capital punishment was executed, not in the 
city, but outside the walls — extra castra — and this was 
all the more necessary because the victim must be buried 
somewhere near the place of execution and with him also 
the instruments with which the execution was accom¬ 
plished. Now, we know very well that burial within the 
city was severely prohibited according to the Hebrew law. 

Jesus, therefore, must walk out of Jerusalem, the Cross 
upon His shoulders, towards the place of execution. All 


190 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


this was clearly prefigured in the writings of the Old Law. 
Isaac, intended as a victim of sacrifice, goes out of his 
father’s house bearing upon his innocent shoulders the 
wood which would be lighted for his sacrifice. Besides, 
every year, on the day of the Great Expiation among the 
Jews, the Hebrew people had under their eyes an elo¬ 
quent image of the sacrifice of the Redeemer. On that day 
a goat, chosen with great care, and then laden, as it were, 
with the sins of the people, was driven out by the High 
Priest into the open country, and with blood the people 
were sprinkled. Mystically significant, this, of the sacri¬ 
fice of the Son of God. All this St. Paul afterwards re¬ 
calls to the Jews in his letter to the Hebrew people. 
(Hebrews ix and x.) 

Indeed, Our Blessed Lord Himself, only four days be¬ 
fore His Passion, speaking before a great crowd, among 
whom were the scribes and the Pharisees, took particu¬ 
lar care to make a distinct allusion to the scene of His 
Passion and Death by describing to them the picture of 
the faithless laborers in the vineyard, who drove the son 
of their master out of the vineyard and then killed him 
that they might rob him of his inheritance. Those who 
heard Him on that occasion evidently understood well the 
full meaning of the figure, for Jesus, at the end of the 
parable, said to them: “What, therefore, will the lord of 
the vineyard do to them? He will come and destroy 
these husbandmen and will give the vineyard to others.” 
Which they, hearing, said to Him: “ God forbid! ” But He, 
looking on them, said: “ What is this, then, that is written: 
‘ The stone which the builders rejected the same is become 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


191 


the head of the corner? Whosoever shall fall upon that 
stone shall be bruised, and upon whomsoever it shall fall 
it will grind him to powder/ ” And the chief priests and 
the scribes sought to lay hands on Him, for they knew 
that He spoke this parable to them. 

At the time, therefore, it was clear that the Pharisees 
and the scribes knew perfectly well that Christ was 
clearly indicating the manner of His death and their awful 
responsibility in it and the consequences wdiich would 
follow. Nevertheless, blinded by passion and hatred, by 
anger and jealousy, they soon forgot; and neither proph¬ 
ecies nor figures nor parables nor admonitions could 
now avail to make them see the true light beaming there 
effulgently before their very eyes. 

The place of the Crucifixion is historically certain and 
beyond all discussion. Innumerable writings, all tradi¬ 
tion, and many monuments place it beyond doubt. To 
the west of Jerusalem at the northwest corner of the 
city, outside the gate called “antiqua,” and not far from 
the walls, arose a rocky hill, called in Hebrew, “Golgo¬ 
tha,” and by the Latins, “Calvary.” This was the place 
of crucifixion designated by those in authority in Judea. 
Near by were the various roads which led from the Porta 
Antiqua to Bethlehem, to Joppe and to the other towns 
towards the west. Around about it were the gardens and 
groves where the Jews, coming from other towns and 
villages to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover, set up 
their tents in great number. So the place fulfilled all the 
prescriptions of the Law and was admirably suited to the 
purpose which the leaders of the Jewish people now had 


192 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


in mind. The cross elevated upon this hill would be 
visible, not only to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, but to all 
strangers camped about the foot of the hill and to all the 
travelers that passed up and down the several roads at its 
foot. And so it might well be said that Our Blessed Lord 
in the moment of His Crucifixion was a spectacle to the 
world, to the angels and to all men. 

The distance from the praetorium, or the palace where 
Pilate lived, to Calvary is about a mile, and, though the 
distance is not great, to traverse it is a fatiguing effort. 
From the forum the road descends to the valley in the 
midst of the city, and from there it rises rapidly to the 
Porta Antiqua, thence upward to the hill of Calvary. Cal¬ 
vary is not, as some may imagine, a high mountain. 
Nevertheless, the journey from the valley to the gate and 
from there to the top of Golgotha is no easy one. What 
must it have been to Jesus, overcome with weakness and 
fatigue, overwhelmed with suffering and a thousand emo¬ 
tions, borne down by the heavy weight of the Cross upon 
His shoulders? Had not the invisible angels of God been 
there to support and sustain Him, He could never have 
made the journey alive. 

Command was issued by the centurion to start the 
procession, and the scribes and the Pharisees, with tri¬ 
umph and derision written on their ugly faces, hearing 
the word of command, “ March! ”, gave their word of com¬ 
mand to the rabble about them: “Here is an end at last 
to this whole ridiculous folly. Go on, go on! Soon we 
shall see it all finished forever.” The heavy Cross is laid 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


193 


upon the shoulders of Jesus and the two robbers follow 
along, each bearing his cross. The world at that time 
boasted of its great civilization. We see in this scene how 
deep that civilization reached into their minds and hearts. 

Many pious souls who have spent their lives in medi¬ 
tation upon the scenes of the Passion, and who have been 
rewarded with a deep insight into all its various incidents, 
tell us that when the Cross was dragged out and held 
up before Jesus He leaned towards it, put His sacred 
arms tenderly about it, kissed it lovingly, thus saluting 
the altar upon which He would offer up the holocaust of 
love to His Eternal Father, and from which would come 
the redemption of the world. 

As He passed out through the gate of the piazza, the 
soldiers jostled Him as He was led along. Before them 
ran the herald, holding the title of the Cross and shouting 
the words to the crowd. In the midst of the guard, Jesus 
wearily dragged the heavy Cross, and behind Him came 
the two thieves. As He stood for a moment, at the head 
of the road leading down to the valley, He saw before 
Him an enormous crowd gathering from all the houses 
throughout the city. Upon the roofs a great multitude 
had assembled, and over the whole scene arose the rum¬ 
bling and the low murmuring of a thousand voices. 

Jesus looked at them and the thought came, ‘ When the 
shepherd is stricken the flock is dispersed.’ A great wave 
of compassion passed over His soul and His face portrayed 
an inexpressible grief. He saw before Him, not merely 
the Jews of His day, but He beheld in vision the terrible 
scenes erf the destruction of the city and the universal 


194 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


dispersion of the Hebrew race. Oh, yes, they would pay 
the penalty of their crime; that was written. But, never¬ 
theless, He thought of what might have been, had they 
remained true to the revelations, which, during so many 
centuries, God had vouchsafed them for their understand¬ 
ing and direction. 

He loved Jerusalem and He loved them. Was He not, 
also, a Jew in the flesh? With all their sins. He loved 
them with a special tenderness and affection. All this 
passed across His mind in the few seconds during which 
He stood at the top of the road looking down at the 
people gathering in the valley beneath Him. Step by 
step He began to go down the long descent, and as He 
passed through the gathering crowds on all sides He heard 
only words of insult and abuse. This conduct was entirely 
in accord with Oriental customs, and, indeed, the prescrip¬ 
tions of the Talmud prohibited all compassion for a con¬ 
demned criminal. On the contrary, they invited the 
people to insult and abuse him. 

Slowly, slowly the procession goes down the hill, 
coming at last to the junction of another road which 
stretches from the gate of Ephraim crossing the valley 
Tyropoeon. Here occurred a scene which no words can 
describe. 

The Third, Fourth, and Fifth Stations 

Stumbling in His weakness, no longer able even to 
totter over the rude pavement, Jesus falls to the ground. 
At the junction of the two streets, sheltered by the angle 
of the buildings, a little group had stood waiting. It 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


195 


was the Blessed Mary, the Mother of Jesus, with the 
holy women still about her. The sight of His Blessed 
Mother, the look of unspeakable grief upon her face, the 
tender, compassionate look of love which beamed from 
those eyes bedimmed with tears, the glance of understand¬ 
ing which from her holy countenance traversed the crowd 
and met the eyes of her suffering Son, was a sorrow so 
penetrating that, added to the fatigue and the anguish 
already undergone, it so moved Him from head to foot 
that the strength of His body left Him, and He fell under 
His Cross. 

Just then, coming along the street from the country, 
the soldiers saw a man of robust build. There was no 
time to be lost, and so they rudely summoned this man, 
Simon of Cyrene, and ordered him to help Jesus to carry 
His Cross. 

The incident of this fall of Our Blessed Lord has been 
handed down by constant and universal tradition. The 
fact that Simon of Cyrene was ordered to help Christ 
in carrying the heavy burden of the Cross is narrated 
expressly by the three Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, and 
Luke. The place of the first fall is distinctly pointed out 
by authentic tradition. Indeed, unless something of this 
kind had happened to Our Blessed Lord to indicate His 
extreme weakness, doubtless the soldiers would not have 
given themselves the trouble to ask Simon to lend his 
assistance. 

Authentic tradition also assures us of the meeting at 
this place of Jesus with His Blessed Mother. The gospel 
of Nicodemus, although apocryphal, nevertheless, is a 


196 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


document of the very earliest Christian times, and voices, 
without doubt, very ancient tradition. 

The fact that the early Christians held this tradition 
to be sacred and authentic is proved by the fact that at 
this spot they erected a little sanctuary, which the earliest 
pilgrims to Jerusalem had seen with their own eyes and 
had recorded in their letters. The little chapel was dedi¬ 
cated to Our Lady of Sorrows. It is recorded that in the 
thirteenth century this little chapel was already in ruins. 
A topographical map of Jerusalem designed in the year 
1308 indicates the place of this chapel. When the little 
church had fallen to complete ruin, the Mohammedans 
built over it a public bath. But notwithstanding the 
change in the use, the name and the tradition stood 
firm. To-day the place is held by the Catholic Arme¬ 
nians, who, in building their residence on the spot, 
found, at a depth of ten or twelve meters, the ruins of 
the walls of the ancient church with its mosaic pavement. 
The archaeologists testify that these ruins date back cer¬ 
tainly to the seventh, possibly to the fifth century, and 
these remnants of the ancient church now form the crypt 
of the present one. On one side of that mosaic pavement 
is a white square space with a beautiful border done in 
mosaic. In the middle of this white space is the impres¬ 
sion of two small sandals which point in the direction of 
the angle of the two streets; and this singular tracery 
upon the white pavement indicated without doubt that 
at that spot stood the Blessed Mother, and that there 
took place the sad meeting with her Son. So true it is, 
that even the ruins are books which keep alive many 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 197 

holy traditions of which the written books say but 
little. 

Let us continue our meditation and return to the sor¬ 
rowful scene of the fall of Jesus. 

The soldiers, already weary of so many delays and de¬ 
sirous only of finishing their ignominious work, looked on, 
for a moment, as Jesus lay upon the pavement at their 
feet, and then became furiously impatient. St. Luke tells 
us that among the crowd which followed Jesus were a 
great many women who wept and lamented. (St. Luke 
xxm, 27.) After hearing the sentence of Pilate pro¬ 
nounced, St. John and the holy women had led Mary 
away. They had brought her down to this angle of the 
roads in the valley below, and there, with pallid face, her 
eyes red with weeping, she waited. She heard from above 
the blare of the trumpet of the herald, and she had heard 
resounding upon the pavement the onward march of the 
soldiers. She folded her veil about her face, and, leaning 
against the wall of the building, she held her breath in 
anxious expectation. 

Slowly, slowly, she hears the rumble of the procession 
approaching; the cries grow louder and louder; the fierce 
shouts of the angry populace fill her with terror; but still 
she waits with a patience surely above human powers. 
And now the herald stands before her. She reads the 
words upon the sacred title which he bears: “The King 
of the Jews,” her King and her Son. Suddenly a cross 
appears, and then, for one instant, which seemed a year 
of agony, she saw the figure of Jesus staggering under 
His load. 


198 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Quickly she pulls aside the veil which had hidden her 
face, and, straining her eyes, she beheld the face of her 
Son. One long look, which told more than volumes could 
hold; and then, oh, horrible sight! He stumbles, He tot¬ 
ters to His knees, He falls to the ground, and the Cross 
falls with Him upon His almost lifeless body. 

“0 all ye that pass by the way attend and see if there 
be any sorrow like to My sorrow. ... To whom shall I 
compare thee, or to what shall I liken thee, O daughter 
of Jerusalem, for thy grief is great as the sea and who is 
there who can comfort thee?” St. John and the pious 
women gather around her as she sinks fainting into their 
arms. 

For a while Jesus remains there upon the ground 
moaning, moaning, not only because of His weakness and 
the terrible weight of the Cross which oppressed Him, but 
moaning because He saw that His Mother’s heart was 
broken. Someone from the crowd, stricken with the hor¬ 
ror of the sight, exclaimed to the soldiers: “That poor 
Man is dying. Have you no eyes to see?” The soldiers 
quickly realized that, unless they found someone to help 
Him to carry His burden, He certainly would die on the 
way. So they looked around and they saw approaching 
at a little distance a workman on his way from the fields. 
He had taken no part in the brutal scenes we have just 
witnessed, but had gone as usual in the morning to his 
work in the country, and now, returning weary from his 
morning’s work, he beheld this terrible spectacle before 
his eyes. 

He hurried towards the crowd, and, as he saw this poor 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


199 


victim prostrate on the pavement, his heart was deeply 
touched and he began to protest to the soldiers against 
such cruelty. “Oh, well, then,” said they, “we will press 
you into service. Come, take your place here, lift the 
Cross and help the Prisoner to carry it towards Golgotha.’"* 
In vain he tried to get away. They seized him forcibly 
and, putting the lower part of the Cross into his hands, 
and the upper part upon the shoulders of Christ, again 
risen from the pavement, they ordered the procession to 
move forward. 

While this was going on, Jesus turned His pallid face 
towards Simon, and the look which came from those eyes 
conquered the repugnance which had seized him, and, 
willingly taking up the Cross with Jesus, he followed 
Him. And as he followed, step by step, along the bitter 
road towards Calvary, the grace of God flooded his heart; 
and he knew by some mystic inspiration of grace that he 
had been accorded, in the designs of God, a place in the 
story of the tragic Passion of His Son. Until the end of 
time the name of Simon of Cyrene will be mentioned by 
the children of men in gratitude and benediction. 

The Sixth Station 

And now again the procession begins to move up the 
hill towards the Porta Antiqua. Traces of this road are 
still preserved. It is called by the Arabs “el alam,” that 
is, “The Street of Sorrows.” Schick, the archaeologist, 
in his explorations along both sides of this road, found 
there, still existing, many remnants of the old Jewish 
houses built before the Romans had taken Jerusalem. 


200 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


The buildings along this road were many times demol¬ 
ished and destroyed at the time of the various attacks 
and sieges of Jerusalem, but nevertheless there still are the 
signs of the ancient road over which passed the sad pro¬ 
cession towards Calvary, 

Every Friday over this same road passes a procession 
of pious pilgrims, led by the Franciscans, and the road is 
forever sanctified by the prayers and the meditations of 
thousands upon thousands of holy men and women who, 
following the footsteps of Our Blessed Lord, have passed 
over this sacred way. 

Although this road was one of the principal streets of ? 
the city, still it was very narrow and dirty, as nearly all 
such streets are everywhere in the Orient. Crowded as 
it was with an immense multitude as Jesus passed along 
this rough road, the very air became fetid and hot, so that 
it was difficult even to breathe, as He slowly wended His 
way towards the gate of the city. 

The centurion from time to time commanded the crowd 
to make way and give more room, and the crowd an¬ 
swered back with insults and imprecations. Like every 
mob, it was difficult to manage, even by the soldiers. The 
high priests and the Pharisees advanced along the way 
with the pride of conquerors. Their faces were aglow 
with victory. Here just behind them, safe and secure in 
their hands, at last was the hated Galilean. 

Meanwhile, almost unnoticed by the crowd, the heav¬ 
ens began to take on a menacing appearance, and the 
sun, now advancing towards the meridian, gave forth a 
sickly light. The heat was oppressive and the air stifling. 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


201 


The dust of the streets raised by the shuffling of the mul¬ 
titude and by the passage of the horses made it almost 
impossible to breathe. And so Jesus stood for a moment 
gasping, trying to gather His forces to go on — but 
look! 

On the left-hand side of the street suddenly a door 
opens and out upon the highway appears the noble 
figure of a matron. Her face is veiled but she bears her¬ 
self fearlessly, and with resolute step she makes her way 
through the crowd, passes through the midst of the sol¬ 
diers, and suddenly kneels at the feet of Jesus. 

Struck with surprise at this bold action on the part of a 
woman, the crowd stops and holds its breath expectant. 
From the folds of her robe she draws forth a linen napkin 
or towel, and offering it to Jesus she murmurs a prayer: 
“O Lord, O my Lord, my Master, make me worthy to 
wipe Thy Sacred Face.” Silently Jesus took with His left 
hand the cloth held up to Him and laid it for an instant 
over His bleeding countenance. It was all the work of a 
minute, and it all passed so quickly that even the guards 
had no time to interfere. The very hurriedness and sur¬ 
prise of this good woman in her deed of mercy and love 
towards her Master were the best guarantee of its success. 

For a moment the crowd looked on with curious eyes, 
somewhat touched by this moving spectacle, but the 
Pharisees, mounted on their horses, drove through the 
crowd, dispersing them hither and thither, fearful that 
the gentle and kindly deed of this good woman would 
serve to arouse sympathy and compassion for Jesus on 
the part of the multitude. They shouted to the soldiers 


202 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


to urge the Master along, and, turning to the woman, 
they bade her depart at once. Hurriedly she rises to her 
feet, and into her trembling hands Jesus delivered the 
linen cloth with which He had wiped His face. Then, 
turning to give one last tender look towards the Victim 
staggering under the load of His Cross, she turned and 
fled into the house again. 

Once there, away from the annoyance of the soldiers 
and the agitated voices of the rabble, she took from under 
her cloak the linen cloth w ith which Christ had wiped His 
Sacred Countenance. Again and again she kissed it and 
bathed it with her tears. It was to her the symbol of the 
tenderness of her heart towards the Master in the hour of 
His deepest grief. She told herself she would keep it as 
long as she lived, and that she would prize it during her 
whole life as a precious thing which had touched the 
bleeding face of the Master. And as she stood gazing at 
it with these thoughts running through her mind, she 
opened the folds of the linen cloth and, oh, wonder 
of wonders! there traced upon the towel were the linea¬ 
ments of the face of Jesus. 

There were the eyes, even through the blood and the 
tears, looking out at her with gratitude amid the sadness 
of His suffering. There lining the cheeks was the Sacred 
Blood bathing them as it fell. Overwhelmed by the mir¬ 
acle and trembling with emotion at the sight of the impress 
of that Sacred Countenance, she fell upon her knees, and, 
holding it up before her, she saluted it with all the vener¬ 
ation of her heart as a sacred inheritance of the love of 
Jesus. 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


203 


So the Divine Master, even on His way to death, was 
mindful and grateful for the kindly act of a good woman, 
and left the sacred treasure of the impress of His Divine 
Countenance as a testimony, to the end of time, of her 
thoughtfulness and His gratitude. 

This, then, is the origin of what has been known ever 
since as the “Sacred Face.” 

Veronica and the Sacred Face 

Naturally we are curious to know who was this cou¬ 
rageous and kind-hearted woman. What was her name 
and her story? 

This holy woman has been generally known by the 
name of Veronica, but various writers of high authority 
claim that her real name was Berenice in Greek, which, 
changed into the Latin form, became Veronica, from 
popular usage. 

It is the opinion of others that the word “Veronica” 
is a compound word formed by the union of the two 
simple words “verum” and “icon,” that is, “true image.” 
In that case the word “Veronica” would signify properly 
the figure of the Sacred Face left upon the towel, and so, 
by metonymy, the name would pass from the object to 
the possessor. 

That at various times the linen cloth with the image of 
the Sacred Face was called “Veronica” is beyond doubt. 
For instance, we find in the Ordo Romanus of the year 
1143 that the linen cloth is called unequivocally “Veron¬ 
ica.” Again in several ancient missals, among them those 
formerly in use in Germany, printed about the year 1555, 


204 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


there is a Mass of the Holy Face, or Veronica. In the time 
of Innocent III in Rome, some medals were coined hav¬ 
ing on one side the Sacred Face, which were called the 
Veronicas. 

There are, too, some authors who recognize in the 
woman of this incident the one whom Jesus cured of the 
flow of blood by the simple touch of His garments. Euse¬ 
bius of Caesarea makes frequent mention of this woman. 
He narrates that in her gratitude she had a bronze statue 
erected representing the figure of her Divine Healer. He 
says that the name of the woman healed by Christ was 
Berenice. He does not, however, state that she was the 
same one who obtained from Christ the impression of 
His Sacred Countenance. 

And so, though the identity of the person is not exactly 
clear, the fact itself is perfectly well attested by authen¬ 
tic tradition. 

That there is no word of this woman or her action in 
the writings of the Evangelists proves nothing contrary 
to this fact. It was not their intention, and this they state 
expressly, to describe every single incident along the way 
of the Sacred Passion. In fact, we are oftentimes filled 
with amazement at the holy reticence with which they 
described the sufferings of Our Blessed Lord. Tradition 
further relates that this woman left Jerusalem soon after 
the death of Christ and traveled to Rome, by the way of 
the island of Zante. [Anyone desirous of following out the 
whole story may be referred to the annals of Baronius or 
the Commentaries of Cornelius a Lapide.] 

It is certain that immediately after the death of Christ 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


205 


the fame of everything concerning Him spread like wild¬ 
fire all over the Roman Empire. Pilate, in his report to 
the Emperor Tiberius, narrated, not only the fact of 
Christ’s condemnation, but also that of the wonderful 
spread of His doctrine. The authenticity of this report 
of Pilate to Tiberius is established beyond doubt. St. 
Justin, in his letter to the Emperor Antoninus, the year 
150, refers very clearly and unmistakably to this report 
of Pilate, and Tertullian makes very clear mention of it 
in his “Apologeticus.” So, too, does Eusebius in his 
“Ecclesiastical History,” and many others bear witness to 
the same fact. 

According also to authentic tradition, the Emperor sent 
a reliable messenger into Palestine to gather information 
regarding the story of Jesus, and especially regarding 
Christ’s miracles, with the hope that he, too, suffering 
from a very grave infirmity, might obtain a cure. This 
messenger, having heard of the Image of the Sacred Face, 
visited the holy woman who possessed it and besought 
her to go with it to Rome, when he learned of the many 
miracles which had been wrought by it in Jerusalem, es¬ 
pecially the healing of the sick. The holy woman went 
with the sacred image to the imperial capitol, and, being 
led before the Roman Emperor, she showed to him the 
sacred linen with the impression of Christ’s countenance 
upon it. 

The tradition goes on to say that, at the sight of this 
sacred image, Tiberius was instantly cured, and that it 
was on account of this miracle, by which he himself re¬ 
covered his health, that he proposed to the Roman Senate 


206 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


to number Jesus among the gods of Rome. Of all this botfr* 
Tertullian and Eusebius tell us in no uncertain terms. 
The Senate, however, opposed this proposition of the 
Emperor, and, whatever were the good intentions of 
Tiberius, certainly the Christians of that day must have 
felt relieved by the act of the Senate, because in that way 
the difference was made clear between the Divinity of 
Christ and the false divinity of the Roman idols. Tibe¬ 
rius, it is true, did not insist upon having his way with the 
Senate. Nevertheless, he did place an image of Christ 
among his own “lares,” or domestic gods. 

Veronica, her mission thus fulfilled, started to return 
to Jerusalem, but on the way she heard of the terri¬ 
ble persecution of the first Christians in Palestine and 
she learned that many of the friends of Jesus had 
been driven into exile, among them Martha, the Mag¬ 
dalen, and Lazarus. She finally took up her abode 
near Bordeaux in France and died in that country. 
French tradition, which goes back even to the time of 
St. Gregory of Tours, verifies all this. In fact it fits in 
very well with all that we know of the traditions of that 
time. 

The linen cloth itself, upon which Jesus left the im¬ 
pression of His holy face, is preserved to this day in Rome 
in the chapel erected in one of the great central piers sus¬ 
taining the dome of St. Peter’s and, from time to time, it 
is still exhibited to the veneration of the faithful. It is 
said that the image, after the lapse of so many centuries, 
has become rather faded; but the fact is narrated that 
on the sixth of January, 1849, while the sacred relic was 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


207 


being exposed to the faithful, it suddenly glowed with a 
new light, and resembled very much the pictures which 
we now venerate as copies of the one in the chapel of St. 
Helena. [Anyone wishing further to follow up the story 
of this sacred relic may consult the learned Piazza in his 
famous work “Emerologio di Roma.”] 

Station the Seventh — The Second Fall 

After thus leaving the impress of His Sacred Counte¬ 
nance upon the linen cloth offered Him by this holy woman, 
Jesus began again His sad progress towards Golgotha. 
Again from the meditations of many holy souls we gather 
that the insults and injuries, already described, which the 
rabble and the Pharisees had inflicted on Jesus were all 
renewed, and we are told that by this time even the 
little children took up the fierce cry against the Master 
Who had so loved them. 

We may well imagine what a blow this last proof of 
desertion brought to His tender heart, but the corrup¬ 
tion of the elders makes itself felt always and everywhere, 
down through the ranks, even to the little ones themselves. 
Children, after all, are close imitators of what they see. 
These children saw that the elders among the people, and 
their own parents, had joined the crowd and were filling 
the air with angry shouts. Doubtless the little children 
scarcely realized what was going on. They merely ran 
along with the others and added to the din and to the noise 
with their childish yells. None the less, Our Blessed Lord 
realized that these poor little children had quickly forgot¬ 
ten His words of tenderness and His deeds of kindness. 


208 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


and He saw, alas! how quickly the example of the elders 
could lead the children utterly astray. 

Step by step He staggered on until finally He reached 
the gate of the city. Once more the crowding and crush¬ 
ing which were experienced at the time when Christ left 
the piazza of the prsetorium were renewed. And there, 
utterly overcome by fatigue and by contemplation of the 
horrors about Him, again the sacred body of the Divine 
Master fell to earth. 

Once more it seemed as if the end had suddenly come. 
The soldiers, realizing this, stooped down and lifting up 
the body of the Master began to carry Him towards 
Calvary. 

And so Jesus goes out through the gate of the Holy 
City. Never again would He enter its portals. He had 
loved it and had wept over it. Now, since all His tender¬ 
ness had been returned with abuse, He would go out of it 
and the city would see Him no more. Yet until the end 
of time every portion of Jerusalem would resound with 
His voice and show forth the grace of His Sacred Presence. 

The prsetorium was now deserted. Pilate sat there 
pensive and alone, and ever and anon before his eyes arose 
the vision of the Ecce Homo. The public squares were 
deserted, and, as the population went out through the 
gate, crowding after the sad cortege, the streets of the city 
were emptied. Already had begun the final desolation. 

The Eighth Station 

From the Porta Antiqua the road divided into three 
different streets. The one on the right, leading to the 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


209 


north, followed along the walls of the city until it came to 
another street issuing from the gate of Ephraim, and lead¬ 
ing towards Samaria and Galilee. The one on the left, 
leading to the south, ran between the city walls and the 
hill of Calvary. The middle one wound towards the west, 
ascending towards Gareb. On the left was Golgotha, on 
the right was a series of gardens, one of which was the 
property of Joseph of Arimathea, and in which later was 
placed the dead body of Jesus. The hill of Calvary, there¬ 
fore, stood between these two latter roads which sur¬ 
rounded it, and from either of them one could climb up 
the hill of Golgotha. 

The road which tradition points to as the one over 
which Christ was led on His way to Calvary was the road 
to the south. From this road the ascent to Calvary is 
quite steep, and it must have presented to the weary 
limbs of Our Blessed Lord a most difficult task. There at 
the foot of the hill, as He turned from the main road to 
begin the ascent, had gathered a crowd of kind-hearted 
women and little children. At the sight of the figure of 
Jesus, bowed with grief and overcome with suffering, 
these good women began to weep, and disregarding the re¬ 
bukes of the guard they spoke to Our Blessed Lord words 
of consolation and comfort. 

It was forbidden to show any signs of commiseration 
to condemned prisoners, but no law will ever be able to 
constrain the tender pity of the heart of a good woman. 
As they realized that all this suffering was caused by 
hatred and jealousy, and knowing well the holy character 
of the Prophet and how utterly innocent He was of all 


210 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the charges laid at His door, they could restrain them¬ 
selves no longer, and above the insults of the mob arose 
the plaintive cry and lamentation of this little company of 
good women. Jesus stood for an instant and turned His 
tender eyes towards the little group, and in them they 
read the signs of understanding and gratitude. And then 
above the suppressed wailing were heard these touching 
words coming from the trembling lips of the Master: 
“Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not over Me, but weep 
for yourselves and for your children, for behold the day 
shall come wherein they shall say: ‘ Blessed are the barren 
and the wombs that have not borne, and the paps that 
have not given suck/ Then shall they begin to say to the 
mountains: ‘Fall upon us/ and to the hills, ‘Cover us/ 
for if in the green wood they do these things, what shall 
be done in the dry?” 

Once before Christ had prophesied the end of Jerusalem, 
on the occasion of His solemn entrance into the Holy 
City only six days ago. But now, while His eyes were 
filled with tender compassion as they saw the little group 
of good women before Him, His voice took on the stern 
accents of the Prophet who reveals the terrible judgment 
of the anger of God. The measure of that wrath is almost 
full and the vengeance of God is nigh. Christ, looking at 
the walls of the Holy City, saw them already surrounded 
by the armies of Vespasian and of Titus. He saw the 
horrible slaughter of the Jewish people; He saw the horrors 
of civil war and its baneful consequences, famine and 
disease; He heard the wail of the children in vain asking 
for bread, and the cry of the mothers who lamented that 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


211 


they had ever given birth to children who would thus be 
obliged to suffer before their eyes; He heard the cry of the 
combatants as they rushed through the breaches in the 
walls; He saw the flames lapping the roof of the temple 
and the gleam of the cruel swords which, right and left, 
inflicted mortal wounds and cut their way down to an 
awful victory. 

The vision of all these horrors passed quickly before the 
mind of the Master. He was deeply touched by the 
tender goodness of this little group, but His mind quickly 
passed over them and beheld the terrible vision of an 
angry God avenging the Blood of His Divine Son. “Weep 
not for Me, weep for yourselves and for your children, for 
if this happen in the green wood, what will happen in the 
dry?” He meant by this to say: “If I, W 7 ho am utterly 
and completely innocent of sin and of crime, am thus 
dealt with for the sins of others, what will not become of 
you whose hearts have become so dried up as to feel no 
touch of the mercy of God?” Bossuet well observes that 
the Divine Master by these words does not intend to 
manifest any lack of gratitude on His part to the good 
women for their compassion, but in speaking to them He 
speaks to the whole world, and He says to all of us: “ It is 
not sufficient to have compassion upon My sufferings, but 
you must show pity to your own souls by repenting of 
the sins you have committed.” 

And thus this tender scene of the meeting of Jesus 
with the good women at the foot of Calvary is a lesson, not 
only to them, but to all the world, to realize that emotion, 
even when good, in itself is not enough, unless it reaches 


212 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


to the reality of things, and moves, not merely our tears 
in compassion, but our hearts in sorrow and repentance 
for any evil we have done. 

The Ninth Station 

Onward the sad procession moves slowly and wearily 
up the hill of Golgotha. Each new step is an added tor¬ 
ture. The ascent becomes more and more difficult. Even 
with the aid of Simon and the soldiers, Jesus is compelled 
to strain His utmost energy and effort to reach the top. 
At last He gained the summit of the hill, and then came 
the terrible reaction. He stands for a moment, His heart 
almost is bursting from the enormous effort, His brain 
reels, He closes His eyes, and then suddenly every muscle 
relaxes and down He falls for the third time upon the 
ground. 

Tradition records clearly these three falls of Our Blessed 
Lord during the journey from the prsetorium to the top of 
Golgotha: once in the lower part of the city, once at the 
gate, and the last time at the top of Calvary. St. Bridget 
in her Revelations on the Passion asserts that Jesus fell 
several times during His sad journey, and Cardinal 
Bellarmine, a man of undoubtedly great scholarship, 
gave credence to these Revelations of St. Bridget. 

And now the top of the hill finally reached, Simon of 
Cyrene was rudely dismissed. He had accomplished the 
task assigned him by the soldiers, and so he was roughly 
pushed aside, and went out from the sad company of the 
Master into the crowd. But Simon had already felt deep 
down in his heart the solemn conviction that this Victim 


THE JOURNEY TO CALVARY 


213 


of the liatred and jealousy of these infamous men was in 
reality the Messias. He was driven by the soldiers away 
from any further, immediate contact with Jesus, but as 
he stood there among the crowd the grace of God was 
working in his soul, and until the end of his days he never 
ceased to thank God for the grace He had given him in 
standing so close to His Divine Son and of sharing in a 
small way the burden of His Sacred Cross, 


CHAPTER XIII 

GOLGOTHA 

The hill upon which the final scene of Christ’s Passion 
took place is commonly called “Golgotha” from a 
corruption of the Hebrew word “Gulgoleth,” which in 
English means a skull, and so in Latin “Calva,” and from 
that was derived the name Calvary. A well-authenticated 
tradition places at the foot of this hill the burial place of 
Adam, and so, above the tomb of him who brought death 
and sin into the world, Jesus was exalted upon the throne 
of the Cross by which the sins of man would be forgiven. 
Origen thus speaks clearly of this tradition: “It has come 
to me by tradition that the body of the first man, Adam, 
was buried where Christ was crucified”; and Tertullian 
writes thus: “Tradition holds that here was buried the 
first man. Here Christ suffered, and the Sacred Blood of 
the Divine Victim bathed the earth,” so that the dust of 
the old Adam, mixed with the blood of Christ, became 
purified by the cleansing water of forgiveness. Again St. 
Epiphanius, who was born in Palestine, and who was a 
keen student of the Christian tradition of his time, thus 
writes: “From the records of books we have learned that 
Our Lord Jesus Christ was crucified on Golgotha, that is, 
in that place precisely where lay the body of Adam.” 
This tradition thus clearly indicated was also accepted 
and professed by St. Augustine, St. Ambrose, St. John 
Chrysostom, St. Athanasius, St. Basil, St. Cyril, and 


GOLGOTHA 215 

many other eminent writers both of ancient and modern 
times. 

At the foot of many crucifixes we see a figure of a skull 
and cross-bones. Now this representation is nothing more 
than a continuation of this tradition concerning the bur¬ 
ial place of Adam and the place of the altar of the Cross. 
A Lapide clearly indicates that this is the meaning of the 
skull usually found at the foot of the crucifix both in sculp¬ 
ture and in painting. 

Even in our own day, the Greek schismatics show the 
pilgrims to the Holy Land the grotto in the rock, which is 
considered, even to this day, to be the burial place of 
Adam. 

Notwithstanding this well-defined tradition, there are 
several writers of considerable note who do not accept it, 
among them Ollivier, Meistermann, Zanecchia, and others. 
These writers, following the authority of St. Jerome, re¬ 
ject the ancient tradition. But it must be said, in simple 
truth, that notwithstanding the apparent opposition of 
St. Jerome to the old tradition, according to every rule of 
sane criticism, it would appear practically beyond doubt 
that this tradition is by far more tenable and more reli¬ 
able than the dubious deductions of these modern writers. 
In passing, let us briefly turn our attention to the words of 
St. Jerome, cited as support for this modern view. We 
find them in the commentary of St. Matthew thus: “If 
anyone wishes to hold that Christ was crucified on Calvary 
so that His blood might bathe the sepulchre of Adam, I 
would ask him why, therefore, were the thieves crucified 


216 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


on the same spot? It would appear from this that Cal¬ 
vary does not signify the sepulchre of the first man, but 
the place of the beheaded ones.” 

Now it is not clear from these words that St. Jerome de¬ 
nies that here was the tomb of Adam. In fact, the words 
would indicate that he took that for granted, and he af¬ 
firms only that the name of Calvary was not derived from 
the word indicating the skull of the first man, but rather 
that it was named from the place of beheading. Surely 
there is no clear reason for deducing from these words of 
St. Jerome an opinion opposite to ancient tradition. 

As a matter of fact, St. Jerome himself, in a letter to 
Marcella, clearly indicates his acceptance of the ancient 
tradition as correct, for he writes that Adam lived and died 
in this city of Jerusalem. His words are: “In this city 
[Jerusalem] it is said that Adam lived and died. Hence 
the site of the Crucifixion of our Lord is called Calvary 
because there was buried the skull of the first man so that 
the blood of the second Adam, dropping from the Cross 
upon the earth, might wipe away the sins of the first 
Adam.” 

St. Jerome in another place affirms that among the 
dead who arose and entered into Jerusalem after the death 
of Christ was also Adam. It is clear from this that St. 
Jerome really held that the body of Adam had been bur¬ 
ied near the sacred city. 

The Cross 

The origin of the cross as a mode of torture and death 
comes down to us from prehistoric times. From the Far 


GOLGOTHA 


217 


East, from the banks of the Tigris and the Euphrates, this 
form of punishment spread through Asia into Egypt, 
thence to Greece and Italy, as we learn from Herodotus 
and Thucydides. We have from the writings of Quintus 
Curtius the story that Alexander the Great at the siege of 
Tyre condemned two thousand prisoners of war to be put 
to death upon crosses raised along the seashore. Josephus 
Flavius tells us that, during the siege of Jerusalem under 
Titus, the Roman soldiers seized those escaping from the 
horrors of the city and put them to death by crucifixion. 
So numerous were these victims, that all around the city 
like a horrible grove arose thousands of crosses with a 
writhing victim upon each. Although we find no mention 
in the Mosaic law of this particular kind of punishment, 
nevertheless, in later times the Jews adopted it as a death 
penalty. In fact, Josephus Flavius narrates that Alexan¬ 
der, the King of the Asmon~ans, put to death by crucifix¬ 
ion eight hundred of the principal rebels. We see, there¬ 
fore, that even among the Orientals crucifixion was well 
known as a death penalty. 

There was this difference, however, between the cruci¬ 
fixion among the Hebrews and that among the pagans; 
the Hebrew custom demanded that the bones of the vic¬ 
tim upon the cross should be broken so that death would 
ensue the same day as the crucifixion, whereas the Ro¬ 
mans and the Greeks generally allowed the crucified to 
languish upon the cross and then to remain there even 
after death as a sign of terror to all who passed by the 
way. It was a common thing to allow the birds of the air, 
scavengers like the crows, to destroy bit by bit every 


218 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


vestige of the victim. This is what Plautus means 
when he says ironically to his slaves: “My sepulchre 
will be the birds.” 

This practice, however, of leaving the victim upon the 
cross until all the remains were consumed by scavengers 
was not an absolute law or a fixed custom among the pa¬ 
gans, because we know from the testimony of Cicero that 
the Romans also occasionally followed this custom of the 
breaking of the limbs, called by them “crurifragium.” 

The Form of the Cross 

The form of the cross was substantially always the 
same. It is true, however, that in some cases, as in Egypt, 
the victim was suspended from the branches of a tree. In 
other places, the form of the cross was that known as the 
cross of St. Andrew, that is in the form of the letter X. 
Nevertheless, the common and ordinary form of the cross 
was that of a vertical beam with a transversal beam near 
the top. 

In some cases the transversal was simply laid upon the 
top of the vertical beam, in the form of the letter T. At 
other times the transversal beam was inserted in the verti¬ 
cal beam a little below the top or the head. 

From this arose a discussion as to what particular form 
the cross of the Master was, whether, as the Latins said, 
it was the “crux commissa,” that is the T cross, or the 
“crux immissa,” the Latin cross with its transversal beam 
inserted below the head of the vertical beam. There are 
excellent authorities on either side of this controversy. 
Some of the Fathers of the Church are quoted in favor of 


GOLGOTHA 


219 


the “crux commissa,” or the T form cross, but, if one ob¬ 
serves closely, they speak rather of the symbolism of the 
cross than of its exact form. In fact, both of these opin¬ 
ions can be easily reconciled, and, as a matter of fact, they 
were harmonized by Innocent III, who at the time of the 
Fourth Council of the Lateran expressed the opinion that 
the Cross of Christ was originally the “crux eommissa,” 
but that, when above the Cross had been placed the 
wooden attachment bearing the title, it then assumed the 
form of the “crux immissa.” 

This opinion had a most unexpected confirmation in 
the discovery made on the Palatine Hill in Rome, in the 
year 1856. In the work of excavating the ruins on the 
south side of the Palatine, the barracks of the praetorian 
guard were discovered, and on the walls were still clearly 
visible many designs and scratchings evidently made by 
the soldiers while waiting for duty in the barracks. Now, 
among these different designs and scratchings, graffiti, as 
they are called, was found one which was of such decided 
importance that it was cut out of the wall and brought for 
conservation to the Kircherian Museum at the Roman 
College, where to-day it is still found. 

In the graffiti we see the figure of a man having the 
head of an ass bound to the cross. The form of the cross is 
the “crux immissa,” but it is plainly visible that the head 
of the cross is not the continuation of the vertical up¬ 
right because it does not follow the same line. Rather it is 
clear that it is a part of a beam added to the upright above 
the transversal. Now this is precisely the idea of Inno¬ 
cent III, as already described. At the left of the cross. 


220 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


standing on the ground, is the figure of a man who looks 
up towards the figure upon the cross, and as he contem¬ 
plates the crucified Victim he holds out his hand in the 
way of an “orante,” that is, a Christian believer in the 
act of adoration, and across the wall is scratched this 
inscription: “Alexamenos sebete theon ”—“Alexamenos 
adores God.” The archaeologists place the graffiti at 
the end of the second or the beginning of the third 
century. 

The meaning of the blasphemous graffiti is perfectly 
clear. It is well known that, even from the time of St. 
Paul, the Christians had penetrated into the palace of the 
Caesars itself, and the Christian faith was accepted by 
many of those surrounding the Emperor. One of the 
calumnies against the Christians was that they adored the 
head of an ass. The meaning of this calumny is clear; 
that, first, the Crucified One received the adoration of the 
Christians as God; that, secondly, Christ, according to 
the pagan Romans, was a stupid and crazy visionary. 
And this scratching on the wall of the palace of the Caesars 
clearly indicates the ribald joke of some praetorian at the 
expense of one of his fellow guards. Here clearly, there¬ 
fore, is a mute witness of the fact that the Christian faith 
had entered even the imperial palace, and that the prime 
article of that faith was the recognition of the Divinity of 
Christ. The graffiti is, moreover, as we see from the 
drawing itself, a proof that the form of the cross was the 
form of the letter T, with the addition of an extra beam 
above the head. How many things of tremendous critical 
importance from a bit of accidental joking! Irreverent 


GOLGOTHA m 

blasphemy can still be the clearest possible testimony of a 
great historic truth! 

The crosses erected for the death penalty of a prisoner 
were sometimes fixed and sometimes movable. Among 
the Romans and the Greeks it was the custom to oblige 
the condemned man to bear his cross through the city, 
and then, at the end of the journey, to fix it in the earth 
and bind the victim to it. 

But it was also the custom to place at some point out¬ 
side the large cities a permanent cross, which was a sign of 
terror to the disorderly, just as in later times the guillo¬ 
tine was a permanent fixture, the very sight of which 
drove terror into the hearts of the beholders. 

The fixed or permanent crosses were more solid and 
larger in size; and generally there was attached to this 
sort of cross the pegma, which served as a sort of resting 
place for the feet of the victim. At other times this sup¬ 
port took the form of a seat, which helped to support the 
weight of the crucified. And in this way we understand 
the meaning of the Latin phrase: “inequitare in cruce.” 
St. Irenseus and Tertullian, both of whom had assisted at 
different times at the crucifixion of condemned prisoners, 
record this particular form of the cross. Now, the Greeks 
and the Romans, who allowed the victim to remain upon 
the cross until he died, were more accustomed to attach 
this seat to the cross than the Hebrews, who finished the 
dreadful work shortly after the crucifixion itself. It is 
clear from this, that on the Cross of Our Blessed Lord 
there was no seat, and this is made clear by universal and 


222 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


constant tradition. The support for the feet, however, we 
have good reason to believe was fixed to the Cross of Jesus. 
St. Gregory of Tours clearly indicates this, and the graffiti 
of the Palatine, already described, shows clearly that 
there was no seat, but there was at the foot of the crucifix 
a resting place for the feet of Christ. 

The crosses usually carried by the victims were not 
very high, certainly not so high as mediaeval painters are 
accustomed to depict in the scene of the Crucifixion. The 
victim was raised only a few feet above the ground. We 
know this from the fact that often wild beasts came in 
the night to devour the bodies hanging on the cross. It is 
true that the general custom was to erect higher crosses 
for more distinguished victims, but that this was not done 
in the case of Jesus is clear from the fact that when St. 
Helena, in the year 325, discovered the three crosses on 
Calvary she could not then and there decide which was 
the true cross upon which our Saviour died, as all three of 
them were of similar construction. Moreover, the title 
had been torn from the Cross and was found in a separate 
place. It was only by a miracle that the true Cross was 
finally distinguished from the other two. Rufinus in his 
“Ecclesiastical History,” and Socrates in his historical ac¬ 
counts, both narrate that, following the advice of Bishop 
Macarius, a sign was asked from Heaven to enable them to 
have sure evidence of the authentic Cross of Jesus. One 
by one the three crosses were touched to the body of a no¬ 
ble lady of Jerusalem who lay at the point of death. The 
contact with the first and the second crosses brought no 


GOLGOTHA 


223 


results, but when the third Cross touched her, suddenly 
she opened her eyes, stood upon her feet, and, completely 
restored to health, ran about the room glorifying God. 
St. Cyril of Jersualem, writing to the Emperor Constan- 
tius, speaks clearly of the miracles wrought by the true 
Cross in the time of his father, the great Constantine. 

We may conclude, therefore, that the form of the three 
crosses was similar. Indeed, it was the intention c e the 
Jews, by crucifying Our Blessed Lord between two 
thieves, to make it appear that He was in no way differ¬ 
ent from them, of the same class of criminals. 

The Manner of Crucifixion 

The victims to be crucified were first stripped of their 
clothing, and thus naked were affixed to the cross. We 
learn from the writings of the ancients that at times the 
victims were bound by ropes to the cross. Such was gen¬ 
erally the method followed in Egypt, as we learn from 
Xenophon of Ephesus. But the Roman custom was to 
affix the victim to the wood by nails, a nail in each hand 
and in each foot. It was also customary to bind the abdo¬ 
men so as in some way to constrain the convulsions of the 
victim. Pliny refers to this cord as the “spartum,” which 
was supposed to have some magical influence in quieting 
the victim’s tortures. 

Since every detail of Christ’s suffering is a matter of su¬ 
preme importance to us, we go on to ask, How was Our 
Blessed Lord nailed to the Cross? There were two cus¬ 
toms with regard to this painful and awful penalty. One 
was to lay the cross upon the ground. The victim was 


224 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


stretched upon it and nailed to it, then cross and victim 
were lifted upright. The cross was then thrust into a little 
opening in the ground made ready to receive it. This we 
know on the authority of St. Pionius of Smyrna and also 
from the words of Firmicus Maternus. The other method 
was that of raising the cross alone and then affixing the 
victim to it. Plautus speaks of this method in his com¬ 
edy “ Mostellaria.” Without going further into these 
brutal details, which show clearly the horrible cruelty of 
the times, the question may be asked, Which method was 
used in the case of the Crucifixion of Jesus? 

It seems clear beyond doubt, from all that we read con¬ 
cerning this sad event, that the Cross of Our Blessed 
Lord was laid upon the ground and that there He was 
nailed to it. This is the opinion of both ancient and 
modern writers on the subject: St. Barnabas, Ludolf, 
St. Bonaventure, Ollivier, and Le Camus. 

The Sufferings of the Crucifixion 

As may well be imagined, the torture endured by this 
barbarous method of inflicting death was simply inde¬ 
scribable. And still, as we know from the description of 
those who had witnessed these dreadful sights, at times, 
the victim lived not only for hours, but for days. It is 
nothing short of wonderful the amount of suffering and 
torture which the human frame seems able to endure. 
While we are horrified at the brutality of such mode of 
torture, we must endeavor the better to realize all that 
Our Blessed Lord underwent for our Redemption; we 
must try to face at least a brief consideration of the suffer- 


GOLGOTHA 


225 


mgs He endured at this final moment of His Passion. 
The nails, rough and large, affixed both hands and feet 
to the wood of the cross. The blood of the victim gushed 
forth from the wounds. The more delicate the feeling of 
the victim, naturally the greater the torture. Naked, he 
was exposed to the inclemency of the weather. He was 
overcome with an indescribable weakness on account of 
the loss of so much blood. A burning fever seized him, 
creating an insatiable thirst. No wonder Cicero calls 
crucifixion the most cruel and the blackest of torments. 
It was a penalty generally reserved either for slaves, who 
were not even considered to be men; or for criminals of 
the very worst class — the outcasts of society. It was 
such a shameful form of death that no Roman citizen 
was ever thus condemned, and among the Hebrews one 
who was crucified was called the accursed of God. (Deu¬ 
teronomy xxi, 23.) 

“The miserable man condemned to this awful torture,” 
writes Staffer in his work on Palestine, “remained there 
screaming and yelling in a horrible voice, thus indicating 
the torture that he underwent. Some of those among the 
crowd about the Cross had seen this form of death sen¬ 
tence carried out so often that they had become indifferent. 
Others there were who showed their open hostility. The 
passers-by insulted him; the urchins of the street stoned 
him; and thus, hour upon hour followed in bitterest 
torture. As the night came on, the crowd dwindled away, 
and the victim, having drunk of the posca, a drugged 
drink purposely intended to deaden all sensibility, be¬ 
came stupefied, hopelessly awaiting the moment that 


226 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


would bring death. When the morning came, death did 
not often come with it, and the passers-by still heard the 
moaning from the cross and passed quickly by, pay¬ 
ing no attention to it. Such was death by crucifixion! 
In all the annals of human cruelty there is nothing so 
terrible. History knows nothing more atrocious and the 
human beast could conceive nothing worse.” 

Besides all these indescribable bodily sufferings, there 
was added the infamy which it brought to the name of 
the crucified and to all his family and relations. It was 
an indelible stigma of infamy and of opprobrium. 

To such a penalty the Son of God was condemned, 
and such a penalty He accepted and underwent even to 
the last detail of horrible suffering and torture, that by 
His sacrifice He might blot out the sins of men. He WTio 
knew no sin made Himself the victim of sin, so that in 
Him we should become just according to the justice of 
God. (II Corinthians v, 21.) 

Oh, inscrutable abyss of divine justice and divine 
mercy! How can we ever repay with all our love the great¬ 
ness of the love of Christ for us, which urged Him to 
undergo such punishment for our sins? 


CHAPTER XIV 

THE CRUCIFIXION 

St. Mark, speaking of the time of the Crucifixion, says: 
“It was the third hour and they crucified Him. ,, (St. 
Mark xv, 25.) Thus, laconically, the Evangelist records 
this terrible penalty of the Crucifixion of Christ. But in 
those few words how much is contained? It was the 
purpose of the Evangelists to record exactly the facts 
and thus to leave an authentic historical document for 
all posterity. But in those few words we have food for 
years of meditation and contemplation. For so many 
pious souls who have given their lives to the considera¬ 
tion of the sacred mystery of Christ’s Passion, each word 
is a book full to overflowing with matter for pious 
thought. 

St. Mark, in saying that it was the third hour when 
they crucified Jesus, signifies that the sixth hour had not 
yet begun; that is, the hour beginning at midday and 
ending in the middle of the afternoon. But midday, 
which marked the end of the third hour and the begin¬ 
ning of the sixth hour, evidently was not very far off. 

A guard prevented the rabble, during the preparation 
for the erection of the Cross, from coming too near the 
scene. The Pharisees and the members of the San¬ 
hedrim were allowed to enter within the circle about the 
Cross. They were eager to see that the judgment was 
carried out to the letter. The soldiers allowed them to 


228 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


pass the cordon, and they gathered around the Cross 
with cruel faces to be witnesses to the end. 

Making their way little by little through the crowd, 
silently weeping as they approached the top of the hill, 
was a little group of women. Love was urging them on 
and on, and they wished to be as near as possible to Him 
Who was their All. The Mother of Jesus, the Blessed 
Virgin Mary, stood out in front of the little group, and 
around her gathered her sister, Mary of Cleophas, 
Salome, Susanna, the Magdalen, Martha, and a few 
others. Near Our Blessed Lady could be seen the youth¬ 
ful but sorrowful figure of St. John, who, from now until 
the bitter end, stood by as a prop to the Mother of Jesus. 
Restraining as best they could the bitter tears that welled 
forth from their eyes, they looked on at the dreadful 
scene. When, at last, the Cross was raised on high and 
the cordon of soldiers removed, they crept quickly up to 
the foot of the Cross and there stood beside it. 

Around about the sides of the hill and in the valley 
below thousands of spectators had gathered. Beyond on 
the walls of the city and on the roofs of the houses a 
multitude looked across to Golgotha to behold the dread 
spectacle. 

Not all of them were moved by hatred and jealousy. 
There were some among that crowd with human hearts, 
and though they dared not manifest their aversion to all 
this injustice and cruelty, still they felt deeply the 
horror and the infamy of the whole situation. Then 
there were, as usual, the curiosity-seekers, the noisy 
rabble, the “profanum vulgus,” who shift with every 

i 


THE CRUCIFIXION 


229 


wind that blows and who are ever ready, as the impulse 
seizes them, to applaud or to put to death those whose 
true worth they never really understand. Of course, it is 
always the clever propagandists who are chiefly to blame 
for the insensate and variable emotions of the rabble. 
Nevertheless, the mob itself is guilty, for, without know¬ 
ing at all the reason, the mobs acquiesce in the strategy 
of those who are more clever than they, and follow 
blindly in the wake of those who lead them. Five days 
ago these people had cried out: “0 King of Israel, blessed 
art Thou Who comest in the name of the Lord!” and 
to-day they take up the cry of the Pharisees and stain 
their hands in the innocent blood of the Son of God. 

Yet in the midst of all their stupid fury, doubtless at 
the bottom of their souls there was still this thought: 
“We have seen Him perform so many wonderful signs, 
what if now He again works even a greater wonder?” 
Indeed, while they were intent upon putting Him to 
death, they were secretly expectant of some new indica¬ 
tion of His divine power. Could He not, like Gedeon, 
suddenly break the chains that bound Him, disappear 
from the midst of His persecutors, and with a breath 
disperse the Philistines about Him? Even the priests 
and the members of the Sanhedrim could scarcely con¬ 
ceal at times the fact that they, too, were conscious of an 
interior apprehension. To bury these fears in their souls, 
they only sought to hasten the more the preparations 
for the final sacrifice. 

All about them, in the sky above and in the very air 
they breathed, they felt the indications of a revulsion 


230 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


of Aiature itself. They heard the rumble of distant 
thunder beyond the hills. A heavy and murky fog 
blotted out the clear rays of the sun and spread a sickly 
glamour over the whole country about. Something 
seemed about to happen and terror began to possess 
their souls, but it was the terror of the madman who only 
rushes more fiercely towards destruction. So they only 
yelled the louder to the soldiers to hurry up, to end it all, 
to finish forever the memory of this hated Galilean. 

From the words of St. John (xix, 23) it is clear that 
four soldiers had been counted off to look after the Cruci¬ 
fixion of Jesus. It is hard to believe that these soldiers 
were of the Roman Legion, for as a rule the legionaries 
were men of considerable pride, partaking as they did 
in the glory of the great Roman conquests. But as Pilate 
had no lictors in his train, it became necessary to delegate 
for this disagreeable task some of the soldiery. 

It is just possible that these soldiers, to whom had been 
assigned this repulsive work, were not Romans, in the 
strict sense of the word, but were some of those barba¬ 
rous tribes who from time to time were recruited into the 
ranks as supplementary to the legionaries. If that were 
the case, then we can understand readily that this 
bloody work had no very special repulsion for them. We 
can see them handling brutally the tender and wounded 
body of Our Blessed Lord; we can see these rough bar¬ 
barians throwing Him upon the Cross and there driving 
the nails through His sacred hands and feet; we can hear 
them as they dig away the cavity into which the Cross 
would be dropped so as to be held more securely by the 


THE CRUCIFIXION 


231 


earth; we can hear the sound of their hammers, as they 
nail the glorious title above the head of Christ; and, in 
the midst of all these horrors, we can see the gentle Body 
of Our Blessed Lord; we can see the patient look upon 
His wounded face; we can hear the tender words, which, 
even amid the blasphemy of the soldiery, came forth from 
His sacred lips, and the faint and pathetic cry which 
even now escaped Him as He moaned: “Thy will, O 
Father, not Mine, be done.” 

It was a custom among the Jews to offer to those con¬ 
demned to death a mixture of liquors and drugs, the 
effect of which would be to stupefy them in their suffer¬ 
ing. The basis of this mixture was a very strong wine, 
with which were mixed ground incense and myrrh, the 
whole flavored with orange juice. There is a pious 
tradition which affirms that the good women who fol¬ 
lowed Our Blessed Lord to the Cross had gone apart and 
had mixed for Him a refreshing drink, which, if the oppor¬ 
tunity offered itself, they would give to Him to slake 
His awful thirst. But tradition also has it that, when 
these good women gave this mixture to the soldiers, they 
took it away for themselves, and then made a bitter 
and unpalatable mixture similar to that which they 
offered to the two thieves who were crucified at the 
same time. This bitter and disgusting mixture they now 
offered to Christ. St. Matthew bears witness that when 
the Master had tasted it He refused to drink it. He 
wanted no drink that would stupefy Him in His Agony. 
He would bear the full brunt of all His dreadful suffer¬ 
ings with a perfectly clear brain and a perfectly undulled 


232 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


nerve. He would bear without assistance all the bitter¬ 
ness of the penalty, and so, while tormented with a most 
cruel thirst. He accepted this, too, as a part of His 
Passion. 


Christ Despoiled of His Garments 

The clothing of one condemned to death belonged, 
according to Roman law, to the executors of the sentence. 
Loot and booty were a part of the payment of the soldiers 
of that time, and it was not to be expected that they 
would show any delicacy of feeling in this particular case. 
Booty was booty, and rights were rights; so they hurled 
themselves upon the Body of Jesus, loosened the chains 
and the ropes with which He was bound and tore from 
His sacred body, lacerated with wounds, the garments 
with which He was clothed. War and conquest had 
hardened all their sensibilities; they were thoroughly 
accustomed to scenes like this. Blood had no horrors 
for them any more, so with rough hands they stripped 
Jesus of His clothing. All this was accompanied with 
rude jests and boisterous laughter. Pity and the finer 
feelings had no place at Golgotha. And, oh, the horror of 
the spectacle! Jesus, the All Pure and the All Holy, now 
stood before them stripped and naked, His delicate frame 
covered from head to foot with cruel wounds and fresh- 
opened sores. Mary and her gentle companions covered 
their eyes with their veils. In the midst of a multitude 
without sense of decency or shame, they felt, as only they 
could feel, the deepest sympathy and compassion for 
the Master in this new trial. 


THE CRUCIFIXION 


233 


Again we must rely upon tradition and the visions 
conceded to holy souls who have meditated upon the 
Passion of Christ all their lives to know details about 
these cruel scenes which the Evangelists pass over in 
silence. It is said that at this moment, when the soldiers 
had stripped Our Lord first of His outer robe and then of 
His inner garments, a man of noble bearing and of fear¬ 
less countenance stepped forth from the crowd and 
rapidly walked to where Jesus was standing, trembling 
from head to foot with the shame of the moment. Draw¬ 
ing from his cloak a clean white cloth, he quickly folded 
it about the loins of Christ and with a little cord bound 
it in place. Christ looked with tenderness and gratitude 
into the face of this new and unknown friend and whis¬ 
pered a gentle word of benediction. Both St. Bridget 
and Catherine Emmerich describe this scene precisely. 
They narrate that this man was a distant relative of 
St. Joseph and was called Jonadab. He had come up 
from Bethlehem for the Passover, and, meeting there 
several of his friends from the little village in which 
Christ had been born, he learned the story of what was 
taking place; of the condemnation of Jesus and of His 
sufferings on the way to Golgotha. He joined with the 
crowd in the streets, and, finally, saw in the crowd, 
Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and the other holy women, 
some of whom he knew at home. When the moment 
came that Christ was to be exposed before the crowd, he 
was ready, and by his faith and courage saved Jesus 
from further shame. 

Although it was now full noon, darkness little by little 


234 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


had overspread the land. There was something suffocat¬ 
ing in the very air, and the terrified soldiers urged each 
other on to finish this whole affair and get back to the 
city before the threatening storm broke upon them. 
Quickly, therefore, the soldiers seized Christ, laid Him 
suddenly down upon the wood of the Cross, and then, 
quickly stretching either hand as far as it would reach, 
they drove the nails through the middle of the palm into 
the wood underneath. Deeper and deeper through flesh 
and wood went the massive nails until finally the head 
of the nails was close to the palms. These nails were 
heavy, strong and rough, made thus purposely, in order 
that they might support the weight of the body. One 
of them, found by St. Helena, is venerated in Rome in 
the Basilica of the Holy Cross. This rough instrument of 
torture which had pierced the tender Body of the Lord 
is now preserved in a golden reliquary and is venerated 
by the faithful from all over the world. 

Having nailed the hands to the Cross, the executioners 
now passed to the nailing of the feet. These they seized 
roughly and pulled them forcibly down to the place 
which had been made ready for them. They first nailed 
one and then the other to the little foot rest at the foot 
of the Cross, and now the whole body of the Master 
trembled in a convulsion of horrible pain. The heart beat 
violently; a quiver of terrible torture ran through every 
nerve. The lips were shriveled and purple. Still they 
breathed only words of tenderness and compassion. The 
head fell almost lifeless to one side, and it seemed as 
though the end must shortly come. 


THE CRUCIFIXION 


235 


The Elevation of the Cross 

It was the work of only a few minutes to lift the Cross 
from its place upon the ground. It was not the first time 
that these barbarous soldiers had witnessed this part of 
the dreadful work. Quickly one of them held fast the 
lower end of the Cross, and the others raised it hand over 
hand until finally it stood erect. The sufferings of the 
Master during this time were simply indescribable. All 
four of the soldiers now seized the Cross in their strong 
arms and bore it quickly to the hole made in the earth 
to receive it. The impact of the wood against the rocky 
soil shook the quivering body of Jesus. At last it was in 
its place. Quickly they buried the foot of the Cross with 
soil and stones, fixing it firmly in the earth. 

At last from all the sides of the hill, from the valley 
below, from the walls and roofs of the Holy City, the 
Victim of the sins of all the world was now visible. For a 
moment the crowd shuddered with horror. A hush fell 
upon the multitude. Darker and darker grew the heavens 
and another rumble of distant thunder was heard from 
beyond the hills. Something awful was happening; 
something indescribable made itself felt everywhere. 
At last He had been lifted up; at last He would draw all 
men to Him. A convulsion seized upon His frame, and 
that convulsion seemed to find a response in all the ele¬ 
ments of the universe; in sun, in clouds, in all the sky 
and in the whole earth. The horrible deed had been done 
amid cries and shouts of madness, but once the Pharisees 
and the people were face to face with the Crucified 


236 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Master outstretched upon His Cross, conscience, silent 
for so long, at last began to speak urgently through the 
horror which held them breathless. 

The executioners, having finished their dire task with 
the Body of Jesus, turned their attention to the cruci¬ 
fixion of the two thieves. It was the Jewish custom, as 
we have seen already, to liberate a prisoner at the time of 
the Passover. It was never their custom to execute 
sentence of death upon them at this time. This we see 
in the account of the treatment accorded the Apostle 
Peter in later years, when King Agrippa, wishing to put 
him to death, nevertheless deferred the execution of the 
sentence until after the Passover. Now, the day of 
Christ’s Crucifixion was not only the first day of the 
unleavened bread, but the vigil of the great Sabbath of 
the Passover — “Parasceve Paschfe.” (St. John xix, 14.) 
Hence we see that, by the pressure and urgency of the 
Sanhedrim, against the spirit of all their ancient laws 
and customs, they inflicted the death penalty upon 
Christ on the very day which ordinarily was given up to 
feasting and the celebration of their escape from Egypt. 
Since their intention also, was to destroy the last vestige 
of any reputation, or honor, which the Master had 
acquired among the people, they hit upon this infamous 
plan of setting Him up on the Cross between two of the 
lowest kind of malefactors — thieves and murderers. 
So we see that, though their intentions were vile and 
contemptible from every point of view, they were, never¬ 
theless, fulfilling the eternal designs of God and com¬ 
pleting the description made of the Messias by the 


THE CRUCIFIXION 


237 


holy Prophets generations long past: “And with the 
wicked was He reckoned/’ (St. Luke xxn, 37.) 

The holy Saints of God who have constantly made the 
Passion the subject of their meditations reveal to us that 
no incident in this divine tragedy is unimportant or 
trivial, and so they go on to speak about the position of 
the Cross upon which Christ died. They tell us that the 
Cross was faced towards the northwest and thus the 
back of the Cross was turned towards Jerusalem. This 
was no accident, but clearly in the designs of the Phari¬ 
sees to indicate that He was an outcast of the people, 
and therefore should be deprived even in His dying 
moments of looking upon the Holy City and the sacred 
temple gleaming in beauty above the city. They little 
thought that there was another significance in that act. 
They would have trembled if they had realized the truth, 
that the Son of God was really turning His back upon the 
Holy City and upon the Hebrew nation for the crime they 
had committed against His Father, and now against 
Him, the Son of God. They were to pay dearly for this 
desertion indicated by the placing of the Cross facing 
away from the city. In a few short years, that city 
would be no more, but would lie in utter ruin, with not a 
stone left upon a stone to indicate its majesty and its 
beauty, and the streets of that city would run with blood, 
the blood of the deicides. The people would be dying 
with hunger in the valley beneath, while above them 
arose the flames of an avenging fire which would burn 
the last vestiges of Hebrew greatness. Ah, yes, they had 


238 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


their vicious plans well mapped out and executed to the 
letter. They forgot that God, too, has His eternal plan. 
They forgot that, in God’s own time, these plans would 
manifest the perfect justice of the Ruler of Heaven and 
earth. How terrible is the Justice of God! 

From the Cross, facing as it did towards the west, 
Jesus looked out beyond the hills and the plains of 
Palestine and His gaze reached over mountains and seas. 
There in the west, where the sun was sinking gradually 
towards the horizon, He saw the rise of His new, His 
universal, and His eternal kingdom upon earth, and 
there in the heart of the Roman Empire, now given up 
to conquest and paganism, He saw another Holy City, 
the city that until the end of time would be the heart 
and the centre and the capital of the kingdom of divine 
truth which He had come to establish upon earth. He 
saw Rome, imperial Rome, whose people would soon, 
oh, so soon, hurl from the pedestals the false gods which 
they had worshiped, and erect for His Vicar a throne 
more lasting, more glorious, more noble than that from 
which any Caesar had ever ruled. Looking towards the 
west, He beheld the march of countless Confessors, Apos¬ 
tles, Martyrs, Virgins of His faith, an army of innumer¬ 
able holy souls bringing to the very ends of the world the 
sublime story of what this day He was enduring. He 
saw there in the west the Cross triumphing over pagan¬ 
ism and barbarism; He saw the Cross making new laws 
for new peoples; He saw the Cross uniting into one great 
brotherhood all the tribes of the earth; He saw the Cross 
breaking the chains which for so many centuries had 


THE CRUCIFIXION 


239 


bound the hands of long-suffering slaves; He saw the 
Cross consoling men in dire afflictions and sufferings. 

Little the Pharisees knew that in the triumph which 
would come from the facing of the Cross towards the 
west a new kingdom would rise, firm and strong and 
invincible; that the old kingdom of Jerusalem would 
crumble into utter decay under the eyes of the very 
generation which was now stupidly and criminally turn¬ 
ing its back upon the Cross of the Son of God. Down, 
down, Jerusalem and even pagan Rome would go, and 
a new empire, a new kingdom, new peoples and new 
dynasties would rise. Empires and kingdoms and 
dynasties would fall again and again, but the Kingdom 
of the Crucified would never fall. In vain, schisms, 
heresies, plots, intrigues, defections and persecutions 
would assail that Kingdom founded by the Son of God 
upon the rock of Peter — of Peter, who had once miser¬ 
ably fallen, who was here to-day, somewhere in the 
crowd on the hillside, without arms or without soldiers, 
a penitent filled with the strength of God Himself, 
against Whom the gates of Hell would never prevail. 

Even now, as the gaze of Christ reaches onward and 
ever onward towards the western sun, even as He feels 
the weakness of death gathered about His sacred frame, 
for an instant a smile of peace transforms His Sacred 
Countenance, and He says again to all these new forces 
rising up from the tragedy of His Crucifixion: “Behold 
I am with you all days even to the consummation of the 
world. I am dying, yes, but I shall return. I shall plant 
My Kingdom above the ruins of all earthly kingdoms. 


240 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


and I, now raised in ignominy upon this throne of shame, 
will soon come to take My place, invisible, it is true, but 
nevertheless perfectly visible to those who have eyes of 
faith to see; and that throne will be eternal, and though 
revolutions shake the earth, though kingdoms and repub¬ 
lics totter and fall, My throne will still be there, and 
millions whose hearts have been purified with trial and 
suffering will worship at that throne and will see there 
the glory and the riches of the Son of God which no 
wealth or jewels can ever equal or surpass.” The East 
had its day of opportunity and rejected it, and Jesus, 
looking towards the West as His eyes closed to all things 
in this world, unfurled beyond the mountains and the 
seas the great banner of His Cross, the standard of 
eternal triumph. 


CHAPTER XV 

IT IS FINISHED 


The four soldiers who had put the Cross of Jesus in place, 
and fixed it firm in the ground by hammering down and 
pressing the fresh soil mingled with the rocks about the 
foot of it, were by this time thoroughly fatigued, and so, 
within a few feet of where Our Blessed Lord was hang¬ 
ing, they squatted down upon the ground and began to 
quarrel about the clothing of Christ which had fallen to 
them by law. After squabbling over it for a little while, 
they finally decided to cast the dice so as to see what 
division of the clothing each one should have. So, one 
after the other, the different articles of the clothing which 
Our Blessed Lord had worn were taken over by the men 
to whom they fell by lot. When, finally, they came to the 
tunic that He had worn next to His body, they found 
that it was a seamless garment, woven completely from 
top to bottom without being sewn in any place, and they 
said to each other: “Oh, it would be a crime to tear this 
garment in pieces, so let us cast lots for it.” How little 
they knew at that moment that they, too, were fulfilling 
the prophecy of David to the letter: “They have dug 
My hands and My feet, they have numbered all My 
bones, . . . they parted My garments amongst them, 
and upon My vesture they cast lots.” (Psalm xxi, 
17 , 19 .) 

Nor could they, blinded as they were, understand the 


242 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


full meaning of the precious relic which had fallen to their 
brutal hands. The seamless garment was but a figure of 
the perfect unity of Christ’s Church. As St. Augustine 
says: “That tunic signified the eternal unity which would 
be held together in the bond of love.” And so the exe¬ 
cutioners themselves, moved perhaps by the curiosity of 
the thing itself, refused to cut it up or to tear it in pieces 
for division among them, but they left it intact as if 
by some special intervention of Providence Itself. How 
different it was with the veil of the temple, which, at 
the time of Christ’s death, was rent from top to bottom 
as a sign of the dissolution of the old law and the destruc¬ 
tion of the unity of the Jewish people. St. Athanasius 
sees in both these signs, on the one hand, the indefecti- 
bility of the Church of Christ, and on the other, the 
utter division and separation of the Mosaic law and the 
Synagogue. “The veil of the temple,” he says, “was 
rent, but the tunic of the Saviour was not divided even 
by the soldiers, but remained whole and entire. Thus 
remains whole and entire the Gospel of Christ, while the 
symbol and the sign of it (that is, the Synagogue) falls 
to pieces.” 

And now the Pharisees and the multitude began to 
gather around the foot of the Cross, and looking up they 
saw nailed above the head of Jesus the title: “Jesus of 
Nazareth, King of the Jews.” They were filled with 
rage at the sight of this title, which already had begun 
to provoke from the Roman soldiers ridicule and laughter. 
So they decided to send at once a deputation to Pilate 


IT IS FINISHED 


243 


asking him to change that inscription and to put in its 
place: “He said that He is the King of the Jews.” 
Hurriedly the deputation ran down the hill of Calvary 
and up the streets to the prsetorium. They clamored 
vociferously at the doors of the palace and delivered their 
message, but Pilate, who had had quite enough of their 
insolence, brusquely answered them, saying: “What I 
have written I have written,” which meant clearly to 
them, “That title remains just as it is.” And now we 
cannot help wondering, did Pilate really know the truth 
of his words, for “The King of the Jews” meant un¬ 
doubtedly the Messias, the Redeemer. 

By this time a sentiment of reaction began to make 
itself felt in the hearts of the multitude. For a while, it 
is true, they had yielded to an insanity which they could 
not explain. They had been urged to all these excesses 
by the machinations of the Pharisees and of the San¬ 
hedrim, and they had gone to the very limit of abuse 
under the pressure of these fanatics. But when a hush 
finally fell upon the multitude at the sight of Jesus upon 
the Cross, little by little, they began to think, and more 
normal sentiments began to take possession of them. 
Passions so strong as those they had yielded to for the 
last few hours were too excessive to endure, and as they 
saw the sublime patience of the Victim their hearts 
began to be touched with a strange emotion and they 
began to be ashamed of all their rage and insanity to¬ 
wards Him. Lowering clouds that gathered around the 
Holy City began to strike terror to their hearts, so, 
gathering their garments about them, they slowly 


244 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


wandered down the path leading towards the gate of 
the city, many of them striking their breasts in peni¬ 
tence and bowing their heads in shame. 

Among the few still gathered about the Cross were 
some who could not tear themselves away from the 
sight, which seemed to hold them as in a fascination 
or spell. They felt that something extraordinary was 
happening and they wanted to see it to the end. One 
whispered to another secretly: “What, indeed, if after all 
this were the Messias?” and as it reached the ears of the 
hardened and incredulous they shouted for a sign. If 
this were the Messias He had the power to set Himself 
free, and if even at this hour He would perform this 
great miracle before their eyes, thus satisfying to the 
full their vain curiosity, they might believe in Him. 

And so in mockery they taunted Him: “Bah! Thou 
Who destroyest the temple of God and in three days 
rebuild it, save Thyself! If Thou art the Son of God, 
come down from the Cross!” And thus they hoped to 
achieve both purposes, to satisfy their own incredulity 
and to shut forever the mouths of those who already 
were beginning to lisp doubts as to the true character of 
Jesus. And around about the Cross others took up the 
cry, wagging their heads and sneering: “He hath saved 
others, Himself He cannot save. If Thou be the Christ, 
the Son of God, come down from the Cross that we may 
believe in Thee!” And still others: “He trusted in God; 
let Him now deliver Him!” And so for a time the air 
was rent again with these insulting shouts and cries. 
For a moment they waited and nothing happened. Bah! 


IT IS FINISHED 


245 


what nonsense was this that had been whispered around 
concerning the Messias? 

Here was another blow aimed straight at the tender 
heart of Our Lord. Again and again He had performed 
His miracles before their very eyes. Their hearts had 
remained cold and obdurate, and now the memory of 
these very miracles were flaunted in His face as a laugh¬ 
ing-stock, and He was invited by this miserable rabble 
to glut their mere curiosity at the sight of another 
miracle, which doubtless would have had the same fruit¬ 
less effect. They would have explained this away as 
they had explained away all the others. It would be but 
a sign of magic, a bit of diabolical art in their eyes. He 
read the hardness of their hearts and the vanity of their 
curiosity, and the sight of it made Him nearly swoon 
upon the Cross. It was then that one of the soldiers, 
seizing a sponge, dipped it in vinegar, put it on the end 
of a reed and raised it up to the lips of Jesus. Oh, bitter¬ 
ness upon bitterness, and sorrow upon sorrow, and injury 
added to insult and insult to injury! And so the awful 
tragedy still continued. 

Christ Speaks 

7 Calmly and with perfect patience Christ heard these 
infamous shouts and yells of mockery about Him, and 
the thought came to Him: “Is there no end to the 
blasphemy they are uttering, is there no limit to the ways 
in which they are calling down upon themselves the 
vengeance of God?” And instantly came the response 
from the depths of His Sacred Heart, a response of mercy 


246 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


and of forgiveness, and, raising His eyes to Heaven, then 
dropping His head forward upon His breast, He breathed 
a solemn prayer. It was the first word He had spoken 
in all that terrible scene. “Father, forgive them, for 
they know not what they do.” 

Oh, word of divine compassion and of divine under¬ 
standing! To know all is to pardon all, and Christ 
knew all, therefore was His pardon so complete. Be¬ 
hold the infinite charity of the Son of God! Never in 
the whole history of the world under such circum¬ 
stances were such wonderful words pronounced. Here 
is the sublime example of forgiveness which would be 
held up as an example, for all time, to all His followers. 
He had said once before during the years of His public 
ministry: Not seven times but seventy times seven times, 
you must forgive the injuries done you. That means 
God’s pardon is ever ready to all who ask it, no matter 
how black their sins, even though they be as innumer¬ 
able as the sands of the seashore. The mercy of God is 
infinite and His pardon is ever ready for those who, with 
sorrow for their evil deeds, turn finally to the Fountain 
of all goodness. 

The Conversion of the Thief 

There was one who heard those words just fallen from 
the lips of Christ to whom they appeared in all the full¬ 
ness of their divine character. The two thieves crucified 
on either side of Him were a hardened pair. They were 
men of crime, men of infamous character, cruel and hard¬ 
hearted and little capable of being touehed with any 


IT IS FINISHED 


247 


gentle emotion. They had watched from their places 
the gentle figure of Christ. They saw’ that, while they 
had shouted back blasphemies to the crow’d and to the 
soldiers w’ho had crucified them, He, though suffering 
infinitely more than they, bore Himself throughout w r ith 
a calm dignity and a wonderful patience. They heard 
now this challenge sent up to Him to reveal by a miracle 
the divinity to which He had laid claim, and they too 
waited anxiously to see if anything might happen. x\nd 
then they heard this prayer from the lips of Jesus, a 
prayer of pardon for his persecutors. 

At first they were both struck with an unspeakable 
surprise. A prayer for pardon upon this bloodthirsty 
mob? Dismas, the thief on the cross at the right of Jesus, 
looked in astonishment at the face of Christ. Suddenly 
his eyes were opened, and into that strange heart cov¬ 
ered with so much crime a ray of divine light began to 
make its way gently but irresistibly. Again he looked, 
straining his eyes to peer into the soul of the Man he had 
heard called the Prophet of God. A moment before he 
had added his voice to the shouts of the crowd, but even 
louder than they he had yelled from his place to Jesus: 
“If Thou be the Christ, save Thyself and save us!” 
But suddenly a change came over him. 

The other thief still shouted impious blasphemy 
towards the Cross of Jesus, and Dismas, already con¬ 
scious in a vague way of the perfect innocence and sin¬ 
lessness of the Master, turned to him and said: “Hast 
thou no fear of God, thou who soon must die? We die 
justly, for we receive the punishment due to our evil 


248 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


deeds, but this One,” he continued, turning his face 
towards Jesus, “this One has done no evil.” His pro¬ 
fession of faith was already made in these words. The 
grace of God as a first answer to the prayer of Christ 
upon the Cross already was flooding his soul with the 
fullness of conviction. Suddenly, yielding himself to the 
new light, the new love just born in his soul, he said, in a 
voice which sounded strangely in his own ears: “Lord, 
remember me when Thou comest into Thy Kingdom.” 

Here again we witness the difference of response in 
different souls to the invitation of God to grace and 
mercy. We have seen already this difference in the 
examples of Peter, who repented and became a great 
saint, and Judas, who only hardened his heart the more 
and died a suicide. And here upon Calvary again the 
same thing happens. Christ prays for pardon. Both the 
thieves hear the prayer. One of them, touched pro¬ 
foundly, moved to the depths of his soul, answers, pro¬ 
fesses his faith, asks forgiveness, and is forgiven. The 
other, too, hears, but divine grace can find no entrance 
to that hardened and embittered soul. It knocks, but 
no one opens. And so one thief becomes a saint even upon 
the cross at the last hour of his life, and the other dies 
without one word of understanding or of faith or of love. 

But these words of Christ in His prayer of forgiveness 
not only asked that the mercy of God might be extended 
to those around and about Him there on Calvary. Ah, 
no. The fruit of those words was to reach to the very 
ends of the world and during all the centuries to come. 
Again and again, according to the words of St. Paul, 


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249 


Christ would be crucified by the sins of men, and this 
prayer, made to His Eternal Father at the time of His 
Crucifixion, would have the same efficacy wherever sin 
was found if only the sinner, like the good thief upon the 
cross, would embrace the pardon held out to him. Oh, 
the greatness of the love of Christ for sinners! How true 
are the words of St. Paul: — ‘‘The love of Christ compels 
us to love Him in return ” — “Caritas Christi urget Nos.’* 
We, too, miserable sinners as we all are, gazing with 
repentance upon the Crucifix, can still hear the tender 
voice of Christ saying again to us, “Pardon, Pardon.’* 
W 7 hat hope of life is in those words to the soul depressed 
with sorrow at the thought of its guilt! How the sight 
of the Crucifix must comfort and console us always! 
Consider the words of St. John: “If anyone hath sinned 
let him not despair, for we have near the Father as our 
Advocate Jesus Christ, the Just One, and He is the 
propitiation for our sins.” Yes, Christ might ask the 
Father anything and it would be granted. His prayer 
of pardon has been heard and then answered, and so it 
will be until the end of time. He has paid the price of 
our iniquities, He has satisfied Divine Justice by His 
death, and so in Him is our hope, we shall not be con¬ 
founded forever. The prayer of Christ is always the all- 
powerful advocate before God, but, oh, horrible thought! 
we may by our obstinacy cut ourselves off from the 
pardon of God and the fruit of the prayer of Christ if 
we remain unmoved by the mercy of God as did the 
impenitent thief and the impenitent and insolent Jews 
about the foot of the Cross. 


250 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


All during His mortal life He had taught the omnipo¬ 
tence of God’s mercy and had inculcated in His disciples 
the great duty to forgive all, even as they themselves 
hoped to be forgiven. In His great prayer, the “Our 
Father,” again we see the manifestation of Christ’s 
doctrine of constant forgiveness: “And forgive us our 
trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” 
Every day of His life He had exemplified in His acts the 
truth of His doctrine; not once, not seven times, but 
seventy times seven times He had forgiven and con¬ 
stantly pardoned, and now, with His last words as He 
dies upon the Cross, He reveals again the constancy of 
that truth and the efficacy of that doctrine. His last 
prayer is one of forgiveness of His enemies. 

At the sight of this touching example of our dying 
Redeemer, shall we harden our hearts against those who 
have done us harm or have injured us? Shall not the 
very last words of Christ teach us our duty even towards 
those who hate us as Christ’s persecutors hated Him? 
Our daily prayer must be that which Christ offered up to 
His Eternal Father from the altar of the Cross in the 
midst of His awful sufferings and the penalties inflicted 
upon Him even by the worst of sinners: “Forgive us our 
trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” 
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” 

The Second Word of Christ from the Cross 

The conversion of Dismas was complete. Beholding 
before him this perfect example of patience and inno¬ 
cence, and hearing from His lips the wonderful words of 


IT IS FINISHED 


251 


divine pardon, he was touched to the depths of his soul. 
“Surely, surely,” he said, “this is no mortal man. No 
man suffering unjustly as He is suffering would ever offer 
such a prayer of pardon as that. No, this is no mere man, 
though evidently He is suffering in the flesh. That title 
above His head tells the true story. Here is the Great 
Prophet before me; here in very truth is the King of 
Israel. Here is the Messias sent by God to redeem the 
world and to redeem even me.” And then, in the depths 
of the humility of his heart, even as one day the publican 
in the temple struck his breast and said simply and 
humbly: “Lord, pardon me, a sinner,” so the good thief, 
while not daring to ask for his own liberation from the 
awful sufferings of the cross, nay, without even daring to 
ask for pardon, turned his head towards the Cross of 
Christ, with a look of perfect love upon his now trans¬ 
formed countenance, and cried to his Saviour, “Lord, 
remember me.” Only remembrance he begged. To 
Jesus he would leave all the rest. But what perfect faith, 
what perfect love, what perfect trust! Behold what 
divine grace can do to even those whose whole lives have 
been steeped in crime, if only there be still left some little 
opening into which the love of God can penetrate. 

Instantly his prayer is heard; instantly the reward of 
his faith and his hope is promised by the lips of Him Who 
is Truth itself. Jesus gently turned His sacred head in 
the direction of the cross of Dismas and softly uttered 
the words which transformed a sinner into a saint: 
“This day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise.” Only 
God could pronounce such words. There was no doubt, 


252 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


no condition, no obstacle, now to be overcome. The 
Holiness of God had enveloped the soul of a poor thief, 
and already the glory of sanctity shone from the cross 
of Dismas. Jesus knew that this poor man had been 
rejected, hunted, and despised by the whole world. Jesus 
knew full well the hard-heartedness of the world and its 
mercilessness towards those it rejected. To these Phari¬ 
sees and the rabble at the foot of the cross Dismas was 
a miserable outcast of humanity. To Christ he was a 
precious soul created by God, His Father, for eternal 
happiness, who had wandered away for a while from the 
laws of God, but who was now utterly and completely 
repentant of all his sins. He was already redeemed by 
Christ’s Precious Blood, he was numbered among those 
who for all eternity would be among the elect, who 
forever and forever would glorify God in an eternity of 
happiness. “This day.” No vague promise here. And, 
hearing those divine words of complete understanding 
and of perfect promise, Dismas forgot all his sufferings 
in the vision of that eternal fatherland into which he 
would enter before the night had come — enter as a 
companion of the Son of God Himself. 

And while all this was happening between Christ and 
the good thief, what was going on even within a few feet 
of this wonderful scene, on the other cross at the left of 
the Master’s? The impenitent thief, hearing the words 
of pardon, only grew more resentful, for he saw in those 
tender words, not mercy, but an absurd weakness and 
softness. Divine grace was hovering over his cross also; 
the same pardon was held out to him as to his companion; 


IT IS FINISHED 


253 


but he resented it, rejected it, refused it. And so, when 
he heard from the dying lips of Jesus the wonderful 
promise of redemption and salvation made to Dismas, 
it meant to this hardened and impenitent wretch only 
words of folly and nonsense, and his answer was a bitter 
laugh of irony followed by more railing and abuse — 
abuse, even of Him Who had promised pardon if only 
pardon could reach his stony heart. 

He heard, it is true, but his ears served his soul for 
nothing. 

O Blessed Lord, grant that our ears be ever open to 
Thy sweet and tender voice, that we may understand 
the true meaning of all Thy words. 

From that moment Dismas used the remnant of his 
strength to persuade the other thief and the Jews stand¬ 
ing about his cross to do penance for the awful crime 
they had committed against the Son of God. Again and 
again he warned them of the penalties that their impeni¬ 
tence would call down upon their heads, and he died 
still endeavoring to reveal to the world the wonderful 
mystery of his own conversion. And thus, though years 
of crime had been rolled up against him, at least his last 
moments were those of a great disciple, and a great 
apostle of the new kingdom of God’s truth. 

All that we have just narrated took place very rapidly. 
One incident succeeded another with such haste that the 
bystanders, absorbed in what was taking place, almost 
forgot to look beyond the hills and over the city to where, 



254 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


little by little in the sky above, the sun, though it was full 
midday, was already concealed behind the darkness of 
opaque clouds and shadows. The sun in the meridian 
had hidden itself. Darkness overspread the land, the 
darkness of midnight, and out of the darkness came 
a strange light from the stars. Instantly the people 
realized that Heaven and earth were giving testimony of 
great horror — a horror which soon seized upon all men 
and even upon the animals about the countryside. 
Cries of terror filled the air, and from the dogs and the 
beasts of burden there arose a plaintive wailing and 
braying, as if they, too, felt the strangeness of the awful 
situation. Burying their faces in their hoods and cloaks, 
the terror-stricken people fled precipitately down the 
hillside through the gates of the city towards their 
homes. St. Matthew writes with singular precision (xxvn, 
45): “Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over 
the whole earth, until the ninth hour.” And St. Luke, 
with even greater precision, adds: “The sun was dark¬ 
ened.” (St. Luke xxm, 45.) 

This darkening of the sun was certainly not an ordi¬ 
nary eclipse, as happens when the moon stands between 
the sun and the earth, because at that time it was the 
full moon of the Passover, and therefore the moon, 
instead of being between the sun and the earth, was pre¬ 
cisely on the opposite side of the sun from the earth. 
Besides, no total eclipse of the sun ever lasts three hours. 
The passage of the lunar disc over the sun is relatively 
of very short duration, and the whole face of the sun 
is never covered more than a very few minutes. 


IT IS FINISHED 


255 


It is clear, then, that this fact, described by the 
Evangelists, was an extraordinary phenomenon, in no 
way to be explained by the ordinary laws of nature. 

An extraordinary phenomenon of this kind, described 
so simply and so clearly by the Evangelists, surely could 
not remain hidden from the rest of the world. In fact, 
we find in the writings of the ancients of about that time 
references which indicate that this unnatural eclipse was 
observed in very many places. First of all, we have the 
testimony of St. Dionysius the Areopagite. In writing 
to his friend Apolophan he says that, when he was about 
twenty-five years old, living at the time at Heliopolis 
in Egypt, and beholding this extraordinary phenomenon 
of the sudden complete darkening of the Heavens at 
midday, he exclaimed: “Either the Author of nature 
is suffering or the whole machinery of the world is 
falling to pieces.” This same Dionysius was afterwards 
converted by the preaching of St. Paul, and then he 
understood the full meaning of what he had seen several 
years before, and his acceptance of the meaning of the 
revelation he also records in other letters to his friend. 

Again Origen, who lived about one hundred and eighty 
years after the death of Christ, records very clearly the 
same wonderful event. Julius Africanus, a contemporary 
of Origen and one of the most learned Christians of his 
time, makes very clear and unmistakable mention of 
this terrible phenomenon in the history of events which 
he recorded from the beginning of the world to the fourth 
year of the Emperor Caligula, which would be about 
two hundred and twenty years after the death of Christ. 


256 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


Eusebius of Caesarea, another famous historian, tran¬ 
scribed much of what he found in the works of Julius 
Africanus, and among other things appears also the 
description of this darkening of the sun at midday. 
Besides this testimony, we have also the word of St. 
Cyril of Alexandria, St. Jerome, St. Gregory of Nazian- 
zus, St. Hilary, St. Augustine, and St. Leo the Great. 

We have, besides all this, in the Apologetic of Tertul- 
lian, written in defense of Christian truth to the Roman 
magistrates, these words: “At the same moment the 
sun gave forth no light, though it was then midday. 
This prodigy was reckoned by those who did not under¬ 
stand its meaning as an extraordinary eclipse, but that 
was because they did not know that this sign, too, had 
been predicted to happen at the time of the death of 
Christ. Nevertheless, you will find this phenomenon 
described as a world-wide event in the documents which 
you have in your archives.” (The Apologetic of Ter- 
tullian, xxi.) 

Again we find in the Acts of the martyrdom of St. 
Lucian, a priest of Antioch in the year 312, as described 
by the historian Rufinus, that this confessor of the faith 
said to his judge: “Consult your annals and you will find 
that at the time of Pilate, when Christ suffered, the sun 
disappeared and the day was darkened with clouds.” 
(Rufinus, Book 9, v.) 

Now, this testimony of the apologists, Tertullian and 
Lucian, is irresistible in its force. The purpose of these 
apologists was to demonstrate to the pagan rulers that 
Christ was God and that His religion was divine, and 


IT IS FINISHED 


257 


that therefore these rulers, in persecuting the Christians, 
were guilty of a terrible injustice; and as a proof of 
Christ’s Divinity they appealed to the miracles which He 
had wrought and to the prodigies which had surrounded 
His whole life, and especially to this fact of the darken¬ 
ing of the sun at midday, and for proof of the fact they re¬ 
ferred these Roman magistrates to their own archives. 

It is perfectly clear from this that the pagans them¬ 
selves had not only noticed the extraordinary phenome¬ 
non, but had recorded it in the documents of state. Evi¬ 
dently some of these rulers at least had great regard for 
the powerful arguments put forth by Tertullian, and no 
doubt they set the scholars to work to verify his words. 
Whatever other conclusions they drew from their re¬ 
search, one thing is perfectly clear, that the Apologetic 
of Tertullian produced a profound effect upon the minds 
of the rulers, and, for a time at least, they tempered the 
horrors of their persecution of the Christians. 

Finally, we have also the authority of two pagan writ¬ 
ers, Phlegon and Thallus, who concur in the testimony 
of this darkening of the sun at midday at the time of 
Christ’s death. Phlegon, living at the time of the 
Emperor Hadrian, wrote the history of the Olympiads, 
from the date of their origin to the year 140 of the 
Christian era, and he narrates that in the fourth year of 
the two hundred and second Olympiad, which would be 
about the eighteenth year of the reign of the Emperor 
Tiberius (corresponding to the time of the death of 
Christ), there occurred an eclipse of the sun, the greatest 
that had ever happened. The darkness was so thick that 


258 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


even at midday the stars were visible. Bithynia was 
shaken with a terrible earthquake and a great part of the 
city of Nicea was laid in ruins. Julius Africanus adds 
that Phlegon testified that this eclipse of the sun took 
place at the time of the full moon. 

Thallus, a Grecian historian contemporaneous with 
Augustus and Tiberius, Roman Emperors, in his history 
of Syria repeats and confirms in every detail the narrative 
of Phlegon. 

We know well that many of the documents of that 
time were completely destroyed, both at the time of the 
destruction of the city of Jerusalem and the overrunning 
of all Palestine by the Roman forces. And then later, 
during the terrible persecutions which raged for nearly 
three centuries, there is no doubt that thousands upon 
thousands of documents and books which to-day would 
describe at great length the events which happened about 
that time were burnt or torn to pieces by the enemies of 
the Christians. Among these, without a doubt, were the 
Acts written by Pontius Pilate to Tiberius. That these 
letters of Pilate really existed we have the fullest proof in 
the works of St. Justin, who, in his Apologia to the 
Emperor Antonine and to the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, 
begs these Emperors and the Roman magistrates to 
read again what Pontius Pilate had written with regard 
to the trial and the condemnation of Jesus. Now, from 
all that has thus far been said, it is perfectly clear that 
there was a great crowd of witnesses giving testimony to 
this darkening of the sun at midday during the Cruci¬ 
fixion of Christ. 


IT IS FINISHED 


259 


One may ask, what was the cause of this obscuring of 
the sun at noon, or just how did it happen? The answer 
is that, like so many other wonders performed by the 
hand of God, we see the fact, and the fact is recorded as 
indisputable. The fact cannot be explained by natural 
law. God, the Creator of Heaven and earth, rules His 
universe and disposes of all things according to His own 
Divine Will. That this darkening of the sun at midday 
took place cannot be reasonably doubted. How it took 
place and by what means, that is a secret of God. 

Jerusalem at the Time of Christ's Crucifixion 

When, at the moment of Christ’s death, a profound 
darkness covered the earth, though it was early after¬ 
noon, the people of Jesusalem were seized with a terrible 
fright and confusion. Many stood in the open squares, 
with their faces concealed in their cloaks, and, beat¬ 
ing their breasts, begged God to forgive them. Others 
mounted to the roofs of their houses and there gave vent 
to wailing and lamentation. The crows and the scaven¬ 
gers of the air swung low over the roofs of the city. Pilate 
and Herod met to talk over the mysterious events that 
were happening. They both had good reason to fear. 
The hand of God was stretched out in anger over both 
their houses. Across the squares of the city ran little 
groups hither and thither, not knowing where to go. 
The wiseacres, the scribes and the Pharisees, gathered 
around the wall of the temple explaining to one another 
that this terrible darkness was merely some natural 
phenomenon of the elements. But among the crowds in 


260 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


the square and on the roofs of the houses there were 
many who realized that God was thus giving testimony 
of His wrath at the death of His Divine Son, and with 
weeping eyes they looked up at the dark heavens implor¬ 
ing mercy and forgiveness. And even then the God of 
mercy and forgiveness listened to their prayers and filled 
their souls with the conviction of Christ’s Divinity. In 
a few days these converts to the faith of Christ would 
give testimony of their loyalty and fidelity. They were 
already among the first fruits of Redemption. They 
would be among those who formed the first congregation 
to be known forever as the Church of Christ. 

This should have been a day of rejoicing among the 
Jews, for it was the Feast of the Passover, but instead it 
was a day of lamentation and of consternation. On every 
side was heard the sound of weeping and the very ani¬ 
mals joined in the general chorus of utter confusion and 
terror. 

Greater and greater became the darkness until at last 
the crosses raised upon the top of Golgotha became 
almost invisible in a black mist. As the crowd in fright¬ 
ened groups suddenly fled down the sides of Calvary, a 
little group of women, their veils concealing their sad 
faces, crept timidly nearer and nearer to the foot of the 
Cross of Jesus. Erect, her face now revealed, one of them 
enfolds the wood of the Cross in her arms, and, with eyes 
which revealed at the same time infinite sorrow and 
infinite courage, she looked up at the face of the Master. 
There in the gloom which grew darker and darker about 
the Cross the Mother of Jesus took her place nearest to 


IT IS FINISHED 


261 


the bruised Body of the Divine Victim. Silence reigned 
supreme over the top of the hill. The soldiers, overcome 
with fatigue and terror, betook themselves a short dis¬ 
tance away from the Cross and sat down upon the 
ground, their eyes, bulging with fright, still gazing upon 
the face of their Victim. 

Jesus and Mary, the holiest of mothers and the holiest 
of sons, at least for these few moments, in perfect silence, 
gazed at each other in complete understanding and divine 
recognition. He knew, oh, so well, that she understood 
all. He realized to the full that, while the gentle tender¬ 
ness of His Mother’s heart was torn in anguish, neverthe¬ 
less, He read in her face the absolute and complete sub¬ 
mission to God’s will, which was also His. 

Only for a moment the silence lasted and then the 
divine lips parted with a tremor, and the beloved dis¬ 
ciple John, who had eagerly watched every move of the 
Son and the Mother, now went quickly to the foot of the 
Cross. The eyes of the Master looked deep into the soul 
of His beloved companion and friend and they read in 
the pure soul of St. John the worthiness of the gift He 
was about to bequeath him. And now, turning that 
sacred gaze once more to the face of His sweet Mother, 
He said to her: “Lady, behold thy son,” indicating by a 
glance St. John, who stood by her side. Then He riveted 
His eyes upon His beloved friend and said to him, at the 
same time indicating His beloved Mother: “Behold thy 
Mother.” 

The end was very near. At the last supper He had 
given Himself in the Holy Eucharist to all His Apostles 


262 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


and to all the faithful until the end of time. There was 
only one treasure left. This He had reserved to the very 
end, and so at the moment of His death He seems to 
relinquish everything. No longer does He call Mary — 
“Mother.” That was His own intimate personal relation 
to her, but instead He says, “Lady,” or, “Woman,” 
intending thus to indicate her new title, the Mother of 
all those who loved Him. And so, without ceasing to be 
the Mother of God, Mary, the Blessed Virgin, was at 
that moment given to be the Mother of all who ac¬ 
knowledged His Sacred Name, and so He, through her, 
the Mother of all Christians, became our elder Brother. 
Eve, the first mother of the human race, by her disobedi¬ 
ence and her desire for pleasure had brought sin and 
death into the world, and Mary, by renouncing every¬ 
thing that she owned, or had, or was, became the Mother 
of Jesus, the Son of God; and thus through her, by the 
Christ, the Messias, the world was redeemed and salva¬ 
tion assured. 

The Blessed Mother and St. John understood wdth 
perfect clearness the meaning of the words of the Master 
upon the Cross. They received the solemn gift in com¬ 
plete silence, for their hearts were too full of understand¬ 
ing and of gratitude to allow any reply. With a look 
upwards to the face of Jesus, their eyes spoke sentiments 
which no words of the lips could reveal, and then the 
Blessed Virgin and St. John looked at each other. The 
bond was perfected, the compact completed. “From 
that hour,” the Evangelist says, “the disciple took her 
to his own.” (St. John xix, 27 .) 


IT IS FINISHED 


263 


And now the Blessed Mother of Jesus could stand no 
more. She leaned for support for a moment against the 
wood of the Cross as if she were about to fall. Instantly 
St. John supported her with the strength of his youthful 
arms and gently led her away. The pious women fol¬ 
lowed, and there, seated a little apart from the Cross 
upon the stony earth, they continued in silence the long 
vigil of the Crucifixion. 

The Abandonment of Jesus 

Around about the top of the hill of Calvary there was 
now a deathly silence. Most of the rabble, terrified by 
the darkness and the trembling of the earth, had fled into 
the city. The soldiers, weary with their long watch, sat 
in a little group upon the ground. The good thief, filled 
to overflowing with thoughts of wonder and of gratitude, 
murmured softly the words which arose from his heart. 
Jesus from His throne, the hard wood of the Cross, gazed 
over the hillside about Him and saw at last that He was 
utterly alone, utterly bereft of all consolation. His lips 
moved as He whispered the sacred psalms, the truth of 
whose prophecies was now verified to the full. 

The Fourth Word 

Slowly the moments passed, counted off by the drop¬ 
ping of the blood from the Cross of Jesus to the ground. 
The darkness grew darker still and the moments seemed 
interminable. Utterly overwhelmed by the feeling of 
desolation which now possessed Him, a cry of abandon¬ 
ment came from His trembling lips: “Eli, Eli, lamina 


264 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


sabacthani!”— that is, “My God, My God, why hast 
Thou forsaken Me!” 

A thousand years before this time, David, in the midst 
of his adversities, had wailed forth these same words. 
Now it was Jesus, of Whom David was only a figure, 
Who, in the midst of complete and absolute desolation, 
uttered the same pathetic cry. He had asked that the 
chalice should pass from Him. Nevertheless, He would 
drink it, if such were His Father’s Will. And now He 
drinks it, even to the very last dregs, and the bitterness 
of that last bitter drop wrung from His patient soul the 
cry which pierced the very Heaven, asking of His Eternal 
Father why He had thus utterly and completely left Him 
to suffer and to die in the horror of silence, in the utter 
darkness of a midday that was midnight. The burden 
of the sins of the world was crushing Him. It seems 
as though the limit, even of His endurance, had been 
reached, and now, even when the hour was darkest and 
His sufferings most cruel, even His Father seemed to 
abandon and to forget Him. 

Every act of Jesus upon the Cross, every word that He 
spoke in that terrible hour of His agony, was meant for 
our instruction and our consolation. Are there not times 
when we, too, feel as if we had been abandoned even by 
God Himself? Have we not, also, moments of supreme 
agony when there is no friend near, no word of under¬ 
standing spoken, no word of consolation offered to us? 
Have we not to undergo moments when even the con¬ 
solations of religion seem incapable of reaching us, or 
speaking to us? Ah, should such moments as these come 


IT IS FINISHED 


265 


again, we must lift up our eyes to the Cross; we must 
realize all the abandonment and desolation which He 
suffered. And if the cry of abandonment is forced from 
our lips, let it not be — it must not be— the cry of despair, 
but only the cry for help; for we know, as Jesus knew, 
that beyond the awful silence in which we hear no voice 
of friendship or kindness or understanding or sympathy, 
the ear of God is still open to our prayer. Behind that 
impenetrable gloom which surrounds us, the eye of God 
still watches, and the hour of God will strike at last; the 
gloom and the silence will disappear; and, if we are 
faithful in this hardest of all trials to bear, the trial of 
abandonment, we shall finally see the smile of God and 
hear, amid the silence, the voice of God’s approbation. 

This utter desolation of the Divine Word, this apparent 
concealment of the presence of His Father, is a mystery 
which we can never hope to unfold on earth. Jesus Christ 
suffered and wished to suffer to the very last extreme even 
of spiritual destitution. He would spare Himself nothing 
in the long list of sorrow and grief and pain, and so, in a 
way which we cannot conceive, much less express, the 
humanity of Christ, though united by hypostatic union 
to the Divinity, felt or allowed itself to feel the absence 
of God’s presence and love. 

The soldiers, seated some little distance off, and the 
few Jews still gathered, whether by curiosity or hatred 
or love, upon the top of Golgotha, heard the loud cry 
which had come from the dying Jesus. “Eli!” they 
heard, and confounding the real word with the name of 
the prophet Elias, they said to one another: “Behold, He 


266 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


is calling Elias,” and they stood in expectation and 
wonderment waiting to see whether or not, at this cry, 
the prophet would again return to earth and manifest 
himself before the Cross. And so they waited, and as 
they understood nothing of the meaning of Christ’s 
words, they waited in vain. 

The Fifth Word 

The terrible loss of blood and the fever of the death 
agony created in Jesus a terrible thirst. All the night 
before and all through the day up till now He had been 
dragged hither and thither, abused, railed at, insulted 
and scourged, and finally crucified. To let us understand 
that this was no mere fantasy of suffering, He underwent 
every phase of bodily pain, and now He suffered an 
awful and insatiable thirst which compelled Him to utter 
the pathetic words: “I thirst.” Oh, yes, surely, surely 
He felt the terrible suffering of this bodily thirst which 
now possessed Him, but, oh, infinitely more did He mean 
by those words to express the thirst that ravished His 
soul, the thirst of the Son of God for souls, the thirst 
for their redemption and their salvation. This thirst, 
infinitely more racking than any bodily lack of drink, 
overwhelmed His loving and tender Heart, and in this 
longing, this infinite longing of the Heart of Jesus for our 
eternal welfare, is the great hope of our salvation. And 
so St. Augustine exclaims: ‘‘Thy thirst, O Lord, is my 
salvation.” 

The Apostle St. John writes that Christ said these 
words so that the Scripture might be fulfilled, alluding 


IT IS FINISHED 


267 


to the words of the psalmist (Psalms lxviii, 22): “And 
they gave Me gall for My food, and in My thirst they 
gave Me vinegar to drink.” 

Hearing this cry of Christ, one of the soldiers ran and 
dipped a sponge in vinegar, and, putting it on the top of 
a reed, pressed it to the lips of Christ. What an answer 
to the cry of Jesus, bitterness, more bitterness and ever 
bitterness, for all His goodness and His sweetness and 
His mercy! And even while the soldier, in his rude way, 
made at least some attempt to answer the call of Christ 
asking for drink to slake His terrible thirst, others among 
the crowd attempted to deprive Him of even that bitter 
comfort. “Let be,” they cried. “Let us see whether 
Elias will come to deliver Him.” (St. Matthew xxvn, 49.) 

The Sixth and Seventh Words 

Thicker and denser grew the darkness about the Cross, 
and now the ninth hour was at hand, corresponding to 
our three o’clock in the afternoon. The soldiers and the 
few others left about the Cross looked at each other in 
silence, wondering whether out of the darkness would 
come the voice of Elias; wondering if in the impene¬ 
trable mists would suddenly appear Elias himself to 
free the Crucified from His agony. And while they thus 
waited, they heard a moan from the lips of Jesus above 
them. They looked up and beheld the Victim in the very 
extremes of death. His face was utterly pallid, the body 
had grown livid and the death sweat was pouring from 
every member. A shiver passed over the sacred form. 
The end was very close at hand, and Jesus announced 


268 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


that the final moment was near as He moaned gently: 
“Consummatum est” — “It is finished.” 

At last the work of human redemption was completely 
finished; the justice of God was satisfied; sinful man was 
pardoned; the mission of the Redeemer was completed. 
In that final moment, lifting His eyes to Heaven, Jesus 
saw the face of His Father beaming with a glance of 
divine approval. God’s eternal plans had not failed. 
In spite of the malice of men and the incredulity and the 
hardness of the hearts of His own people, Jesus had 
verified, in His life, His deeds, His words, His Passion, 
and now, in His dying moments, the very last detail of 
all the prophecies foretelling the coming of the Messias 
and the work of Redemption which He would complete. 
Christ Himself had said: “No one can take My life from 
Me. I alone have the power to lay it down and the power 
to take it up again.” Now, in very truth, He was laying 
down His life for mankind, and His weary soul and His 
tired and suffering Body longed for the repose of the 
sepulchre, which would be to Him only the door of the 
Resurrection to eternal glory. And so it was finished — 
consummatum est; all over at last, the ignominy, the 
reviling, the blasphemy; all over, the treachery and the 
abandonment; all over, the shame and the perfidy; yes, 
all, all was now over; and soon life, eternal life would 
triumph over death. And again lifting His weary head 
upright upon the Cross He turned one last loving gaze 
towards Heaven, where the God of mercy reigned and 
whence, even now, the smile of His Eternal Father 
beamed down upon Him. 


IT IS FINISHED 


269 


Over the weary and blood-stained face of Jesus spread 
the glory and the beauty of a smile which meant more 
than any words could say: “I have done Thy will, O 
Father, I have drunk the chalice even to the very dregs, 
and now I return to Thee, I am coming home.” And 
again from lips smiling even in the agony of death, He 
cried in joyful accents, knowing that the final triumph 
had been won: “Father, into Thy hands I commend My 
spirit.” And then, as His head dropped suddenly upon 
His breast, He yielded up the ghost. And here St. John 
Chrysostom remarks: “It was not the power of death 
that bent that divine head. No. It was the will of Him 
Who was dying only to prove by His very death that 
He was the Sovereign Lord of all things.” Death had 
not conquered Him. He was not submitting as one 
powerless before the laws of nature. Even in His death 
He commanded them: “Oblatus est quia ipse voluit.” 

Mary, the Mother of Christ, St. John and the holy 
women were kneeling under the dead figure of the cruci¬ 
fied Master. Mary knew that, while her heart was over¬ 
flowing with grief, the glory of the Resurrection would 
soon wipe away all sorrow. The others for the moment 
could think only of the sadness which overwhelmed them. 
Christ had spoken, not once, but several times, of His 
Resurrection which would come soon after His death, but 
at that moment they were so overwhelmed with grief at 
the sight of their dead Master that the remembrance 
was dim and vague and doubtful before their eyes. 


CHAPTER XVI 

THE EARTHQUAKE 

The hour when Christ died upon the Cross was the sacred 
hour in which was immolated the paschal lamb in the 
temple, and so at this very time the people of Jerusalem 
were gathered within the sacred precincts of the temple 
to celebrate by sacrifice their liberation from the slavery 
of Egypt. This sacrifice was only a prophetic sign of the 
liberation from the slavery of sin at this moment accom¬ 
plished upon Calvary. The silver trumpets blared out 
their message on Mount Moria. At the moment that 
Christ closed His eyes in death, and while the echoes of 
the trumpets still resounded from the walls of the sacred 
city, an awful trembling seized the earth under their feet, 
and shock upon shock rocked the earth. The hill of 
Calvary was shaken from its summit to its foundations 
and a huge rent was torn in the hillside close to the Cross 
of Christ. 

That rent in the rock of Calvary is visible to-day. It 
is a deep fissure, beginning on the summit of Calvary and 
reaching down the rocky surface of the hill, ending near 
the spot where the schismatic Greeks at the present time 
have their little chapel. The character of this fissure, 
running as it does against the natural vein, is, even from 
a scientific point of view, a proof that it was no normal 
division or separation of the layers, but the result of a 
most violent earthquake. 

At the moment when Christ yielded up the ghost, the 


THE EARTHQUAKE 


271 


Roman centurion who had commanded the cohort in 
charge of the execution rode up to the foot of the Cross, 
and, seated upon his horse, he gazed intently upon the 
face of Christ. As he heard the last words of Jesus, the 
grace of God touched his soul, and illumined his mind, 
and he exclaimed: “Truly this man was innocent.” 
(St. Luke xxm, 47.) Instantly an awful rumbling was 
heard and the ground shook under his horse’s feet. 
A crash like that of a great explosion accompanied the 
shattering of the rocks and the opening of the soil of the 
hill of Calvary. His horse reared and plunged with 
terror. A yell of fear rose from the bystanders. In 
terror they threw themselves upon the ground, not 
knowing what next would happen to them. The cen¬ 
turion, reining in his terrified horse, sought to control his 
own terrible emotions. At last he was fully convinced 
that the Victim upon the Cross was the promised Re¬ 
deemer of the world, and, bowing down his head in 
reverence, he struck his breast and cried: “Truly this 
was the Son of God!” 

Many of the soldiers, hearing this exclamation from 
the lips of their commander, also bowed their heads 
before the Cross and confessed their belief in Christ’s 
Divinity. The centurion, filled with consternation, 
yielding his command to his lieutenant, fled on his horse 
down the hillside and, galloping through the city, where 
the people, overcome with terror, were running hither 
and thither, he rode up to the prsetorium to give to 
Pilate, his chief, full information regarding the events 
which had just happened. 


272 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


The crowd upon Calvary, now much diminished in 
numbers, overwhelmed by the rumbling of the earth 
and the earthquake which followed, fled, striking their 
breasts in terror. Nature herself was indicating by 
potent signs the abhorrence which she felt at the crime 
committed by men. The heart of inanimate things 
seemed to be less obdurate than the hearts of the enemies 
of Jesus. They had not been terrified at the sight of His 
awful Passion, but now when Nature spoke in tones of 
vengeance they began at last to realize their crime. 
Many of them in that hour began to do penance for the 
sins they had committed, and most of all, for the sin of 
deicide, whose awful guilt they now began to realize. 
While the placid and calm countenance of Jesus had little 
effect upon their stony hearts, the terrors of Nature broke 
through the battlements of their pride and the grace 
of God entered. Many of them openly confessed their 
faith and became members of the Christian Church in 
Jerusalem. Truly Christ had said: “And I, if I be lifted 
up from the earth, will draw all things to Myself.” 
(St. John xn, 32.) The glory of His Crucifixion had 
already begun. 

Within the temple the high priests were in the midst 
of the ceremony of the sacrifice of the paschal lamb. 
They, like all the rest of the people of Jerusalem, had 
been deeply moved with terror at the sight of the awful 
darkness which hung over the temple, but still, with a 
feeling that they had triumphed over this false Prophet, 
they gathered the people to the sacrifice and went on to 
carry out all the sacred ceremonial of the Pasch. Sud- 


THE EARTHQUAKE 


273 


denly the temple shook to its very foundations. Mount 
Moria trembled to its depth. The very walls about them 
rocked, and huge openings were visible in the strong 
partitions. Suddenly it seemed as if some tremendous 
force was at work in the Holy of Holies itself. A sound 
as if of a terrific hissing was heard all over the precincts 
of the temple, and in an instant the veil of the temple 
was rent. The two columns supporting the doorway of 
the Holy of Holies fell with a crash to the ground, and 
the architrave of tremendous size which they had sup¬ 
ported was hurled to the earth and broken into bits. 

While the priests looked on overwhelmed with surprise 
and terror, the people threw themselves upon the pave¬ 
ment crying with fright. A loud voice resounded through¬ 
out the great hall of the temple, shouting in terrifying 
accents: “Let us leave this place; let us go out from here.” 
Then in consternation the priests and people heard the 
patter of invisible footsteps running towards the exit 
of the temple. We learn this from the testimony of 
St. Jerome, of Josephus Flavius, and of the Talmud 
itself. 

The Talmud assures us that forty years before the 
ruin and downfall of Jerusalem, that is, at the time of the 
death of Christ, awful signs were witnessed in the temple. 
The great door of bronze was rent in pieces. At the sight 
and the sound of all these horrors, the people arose to 
their feet and ran out of the temple, shouting: “Woe, 
woe unto us!” rending their garments in sign of grief 
and humiliation. 

The high priests, though at heart shaken with terror, 


274 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


nevertheless, went about among the people attempting 
as best they could to quiet them, lest, overcome by emo¬ 
tion, the people might rise up against them. They used, 
of course, every art and artifice to deceive the people. 
This violence of Nature must not be understood as a sign 
of God’s disapproval of them. Oh, no! On the contrary, 
all these terrible things had happened because some of 
the friends of Jesus had come into the temple for the 
Passover and had thus defiled the house of God. Obdu¬ 
rate even until the end! It was a case of the blind leading 
the blind; yes, worse than this, it was a case of the hard¬ 
hearted and the evil-minded attempting to deceive the 
people against even the testimony of Nature itself. It 
was useless to attempt to go on with the ceremony of the 
sacrifice, and so the day, which should have been one of 
great rejoicing among the Jews of Jerusalem, was turned 
into one of desolation and of grief. 

Apparition of the Dead 

St. Matthew writes (xxvn, 52) that at the death of 
Jesus “the tombs were suddenly opened and many bodies 
which had been buried arose, came out of the tombs, 
entered Jerusalem and appeared to many,” and authen¬ 
tic tradition confirms all this. St. Alexander, the Bishop 
of Alexandria, writes about the year 312: “Everything 
was overturned and upset at the time of the death of 
Christ. As Christ, before the dead Lazarus, exclaimed: 
‘Lazarus, come forth,’ so at the time of His death Christ 
exclaimed: ‘Come forth, O dead, from your tombs and 
thus testify to My power.’ ” 


THE EARTHQUAKE 


275 


And so the dead came forth to reprove the living for 
the crime they had committed against Life itself. 

The earthquake, like the darkness which had spread 
over the world, was not limited to Jerusalem. On the 
contrary, it was very widespread. It was felt violently 
all over Judea; in fact, all over Palestine, and it ruined 
many of the towns and villages in that place. It was felt, 
besides, all over Asia Minor and destroyed a large part 
of the city of Nicea, as we have already stated, according 
to the testimony of Phlegon. Tradition has it, and St. 
Francis seems to confirm the tradition, that the great 
fissures on Mount Alvernia in Italy were caused by an 
earthquake at the time of the death of Christ. Moreover, 
Baronius, whose word is not to be lightly taken, holds 
that the great rent in the sides of Mount Columbus, 
near Rieti, is to be attributed to the same cause. Simi¬ 
larly tradition says that the great fissures in the rock 
near Gaeta and another in the Province of Cagliari, and 
still another in Monserrat in Spain, all date to the time 
of the same event. 

Finally, we have irrefutable proof of the greatness and 
the extent of the earthquake, which took place at the 
time of the death of Christ, in a monument in Naples, 
which is worthy of special notice. In the Museum of 
Naples there is a pedestal which was found in the exca¬ 
vations made in Pozzuoli. This pedestal has sculptured 
upon its surface fourteen female figures, which represent 
the fourteen cities of Asia destroyed by the earthquake 
at the time of Tiberius Csesar. These fourteen cities 
were rebuilt by the order of the Emperor, and this 


276 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


pedestal was intended to be the base of a great statue of 
Tiberius, thus expressing the gratitude of these fourteen 
cities towards the Emperor who had so benevolently 
come to their assistance. 

The question now comes, when was this monument 
erected? It would seem that the pedestal at Naples was a 
replica of the statue erected in Rome near the temple of 
Venus, as Pliny seems to indicate. Now, the archaeolo¬ 
gists who have studied this monument well think that it 
must have been erected about the year 30 of the Christian 
era; that is, the year following the death of Jesus. This, 
therefore, would seem to be very clear proof that the 
earthquake felt in Jerusalem had very wide results, 
reaching, as we now see, according to these various wit¬ 
nesses, to cities in Asia far distant from Palestine. 

Mysterious Voices Announcing the Death of Christ 

As God, by means of the shepherds and the Magi, by 
the angels and the wonderful star, had announced to the 
world the birth of His Divine Son, so various prodigies 
and terrible signs declared to the world the death of the 
Redeemer. The awful darkness, the earthquake, the 
appearance of the dead in the streets of Jerusalem, were 
all signs of the wrath of God. But besides these, in vari¬ 
ous parts of the world, by the oracles revered by pagans, 
and by various other signs, the death of Christ was 
announced to all humanity. 

Plutarch narrates at great length an incident which, 
to say the least, is extremely interesting in this connec¬ 
tion. He writes that a certain friend of his had embarked 


THE EARTHQUAKE 


277 


on a ship for Italy. He describes in detail that in the 
evening, as the vessel was nearing the islands of Ionia, 
a great tempest arose, driving the ship before it towards 
the island of Paxos while many of the ship’s crew and the 
passengers were asleep. They were suddenly aroused by 
a great voice coming from the island near by shouting for 
Tamus. This Tamus was one of the crew, practically 
unknown to all. Again and again the voice came from 
the island calling, “Tamus! Tamus!” And so the crew 
aroused Tamus from his sleep. Hearing his name called 
loudly from the island, he shouted back: “Here I am.” 
Whereupon the voice from the island shouted still louder: 
“When you come to Palos tell them that the great Pan 
is dead.” Hearing this, Plutarch goes on to say, a great 
wonder fell upon all the passengers. The god Pan meant 
to them the great universal god. 

Finally, when the ship came before Palos, Tamus 
went to the prow of the boat and shouted towards the 
island: “Great Pan is dead.” Scarcely had he finished 
saying these words when they heard coming from Palos 
a great noise as of the sound of many voices. When the 
Emperor Tiberius heard of this in Rome, he sent for 
Tamus, and had him brought before him. When the 
Emperor had heard the story from the lips of the sailor, 
he was filled with curiosity and he gave orders to investi¬ 
gate as to who Pan was, and soon the wise men about 
him gave as their opinion that Pan was the son of 
Mercury and Penelope. Thus narrates Plutarch, and 
surely it is a most interesting incident. As we have seen, 
it took place at the time of the Emperor Tiberius, who 


278 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


was the emperor at the time of the Crucifixion of Christ. 
Pagan philosophers recognized in the god Pan the god 
of all things. His death was the cause of wailing and of 
sorrow to those who heard the mysterious announcement. 
Surely, at least, here we see in figure and in symbol the 
death of the great Son of God, the real Ruler of the uni¬ 
verse. 

So by mysterious signs and strange voices the death of 
the Son of God was announced to all the world. Nature 
and the powers of darkness acknowledged that the 
Redeemer of the world had finished His work for the 
salvation of humanity. 

The evening of the great Passover, which should have 
been a time of great rejoicing and jubilee, was in reality 
the saddest and most sorrowful part of the great day. 
The temple was deserted; the city was shaken by the 
earthquake, and the people were overwhelmed with 
terror. The hand of God had reached out in chastisement 
and the Jewish people began to feel the weight of the 
anger of Jehovah. It was a sad night, too, for the little 
flock of Christ, scattered and wandering, now that their 
Shepherd had been stricken. They had heard, it is true, 
the words of Christ foretelling His Resurrection, but to 
them it was all very vague and incomprehensible. 

Our Blessed Lady, of course, knew well the full mean¬ 
ing of all these words of prophecy, and so in the midst 
of all her terrible grief she was sustained by the great 
hope of soon seeing again her risen Son. But the others 
had collapsed completely under the awful trial to which 
their faith had been put during this whole day, and so 


THE EARTHQUAKE 


279 


they met in little groups, endeavoring to console one 
another in their utter prostration and misery. While 
they could not clearly and unmistakably realize the 
thought of a glorious Resurrection, still again and again 
they whispered to each other the words which would 
seem to indicate that the death of their Master was not 
the end of all their hopes. But in the midst of all the 
confusion which now reigned throughout the Holy 
City, they wandered about, not knowing whither to 
turn or where to go. So the hours passed, bringing 
finally the silence of the night and a few hours of quiet 
repose after all the terrible anxieties they had undergone. 

Morning broke and with the day the people began little 
by little to recover from the events of the preceding after¬ 
noon and evening. They tried to go about their daily 
tasks as usual, and they hoped that by occupying them¬ 
selves with work they might forget the horrors of yester¬ 
day. And so the day wore on, and neither the Jewish 
people, nor the disciples, themselves, were able fully to 
realize that the great vigil had begun which would usher 
in the glorious day of the Resurrection. 

The dawn of the third day was not now far away. The 
soldiers sent to guard the sepulchre had taken their place 
around it. How strange that the Pharisees who pre¬ 
tended to attach no weight to the prophecy of Christ 
regarding His Resurrection should nevertheless take the 
pains to surround the sepulchre with soldiers. How 
strange that these very soldiers in a few hours would be 
the first to witness the glorious return to life of the One 
they had believed silenced forever. 


280 


THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 


At last the glorious sun of the first Easter arose. Soon 
the stone which guarded the mouth of the sepulchre was 
violently hurled aside by unseen hands. The guards 
sprang to their feet and the hair of their heads stood up 
on end, and their eyes bulged from their sockets as they 
beheld at the door of the sepulchre the glorified form of 
Jesus Risen. Overwhelmed with terror they ran from 
the scene to report to their officers an event too clear to 
deny, and yet, to them, utterly inexplicable. While the 
officers listened to the report of the guard, word ran 
through the city that something extraordinary had hap¬ 
pened in the early dawn which had terrified the Roman 
soldiery. At that very hour the pious women were mak¬ 
ing their way toward the sepulchre to embalm the body 
of Jesus, and there at the door of the sepulchre they 
beheld the flaming form of an angel who announced to 
them: “You seek Jesus of Nazareth Who was crucified; 
He is risen, He is not here.” (St. Mark xvi, 16.) 

The joy which suddenly filled their hearts urged them 
with precipitous haste to the Cenacle, where the Apostles, 
still timid, had gathered in prayer. The sight of the 
joyful faces of the women told the glad news, and 
instantly from the hearts of those hitherto frightened, 
terrified and almost doubting men, arose the Alleluia of 
the joy of the Resurrection. But what pen can describe 
such scenes as these? 

For forty days He lived with His dear Apostles, walking 
with them through the fields of Galilee, confirming their 
faith and giving them explicit directions concerning the 
constitution and the foundation of that great Church, 






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REFERENCES 

1- Crypt of the Cross 

2- Franciscan Monastery 

3- Chancel of Creek Schismatics 

4- Monastery of Cr Schismatics 
Cate of Entrance to Sanctuary 

6-Public For am 



























THE EARTHQUAKE 


281 


which should be His Kingdom on earth until the end of 
time. Once more He sat with them at table and spoke 
to them the words of life. He took their hands in His, 
and allowed them to touch His Sacred Wounds so that 
never again should doubt enter their souls. Again and 
again in the Cenacle He sat among them and unfolded 
the wonderful revelations which would constitute forever 
the glory of all those who had believed in Him. Oh, what 
a wonderful forty days, were those days spent at the feet 
of Christ learning the lessons which poured from the lips 
of the Son of God! 

Finally, the end of those wonderful forty days had 
come. Once again He goes out of the Cenacle, following 
the same route which He had taken on the night of His 
Passion; down into the valley by the brook Cedron, stop¬ 
ping for a moment to look across at Gethsemane, not 
now in the sorrow of the evening of His Passion, but in 
glorious retrospect of all that the Passion had accom¬ 
plished. He crosses the brook, enters through the gate 
and climbs the side of the hill of Olivet. Joyfully they 
mount the sacred hill and soon reach its summit, whence 

i 

once again they look out upon the panorama which sur¬ 
rounds them, recalling for a moment all the scenes of the 
labors and the suffering of the Master. They kneel down 
upon the ground, their eyes lifted to the face of Christ. 
They hear for the last time the sacred lessons which He 
had reserved for them until that moment, and then, 
stretching out His hands above their bowed heads, He 
blessed them all. One word of final leave-taking and, 
while they look, behold His glorified form is lifted into 


282 THE PASSION OF OUR LORD 

the air; it rises above them, shining with the glory of the 
sun; it rises and still rises until finally, enfolded in a bril¬ 
liant cloud, He is lost to their view. And there they still 
knelt, their heads lifted towards Heaven, their eyes 
straining towards the great cloud into which He had dis¬ 
appeared. Then, lifting up their voices, they chanted 
the hymn of “ Glory to God in the Highest/’ Immovable, 
they remained, looking still up into the great empyrean 
in the midst of which He had disappeared. 

Jesus Christ, the Son of God, their Lord and Master, 
had ascended into Heaven. But now the Apostles re¬ 
alized that His Kingdom would have no end; that His 
Church, the Kingdom of Truth which He had founded 
upon Peter and the other Apostles, would endure for¬ 
ever; that they would carry His Gospel to the ends of 
the earth, from sea to sea, over mountains and rivers and 
plains; that His Church would suffer even as He had 
suffered, but that it would ever be refreshed for new 
combats and fortified by prayer for new triumphs; that it 
would ever and ever be assaulted but never overcome, 
and, when time should be no more, that His Church, like 
its Divine Founder, would be crowned with His victory 
and partake of His eternal triumph in the Kingdom of 
God in Heaven. 

O Jesu mi dulcissime, 

Spes suspirantis animae, 

Te quaerent piae lacrimae, 

Et ardor mentis intimae. 

Gloria in altissimis Deo et beatissimse Virgini Mari© 
sint gratiae. 


APPENDIX 



APPENDIX 


Note 1 

Catherine Emmerich and the Value of Her 

Meditations 

Catherine Emmerich was born in a little village in the dio¬ 
cese of Munster, Germany, of poor and honest parents, the 8th 
of September, 1774. From her youth she was a pious and inno¬ 
cent girl, and in her early years she worked about the farm help¬ 
ing her parents with various domestic duties. At a very early 
age she began to narrate to her father wonderful visions which 
she had seen. Later she became a nun in the little village 
of Dulmen in Westphalia. When the convent there was sup¬ 
pressed, she went to live in a poor cottage in that place, which 
had been offered to her by pious friends. She died on the eve¬ 
ning of the 9th of February, 1824. It was commonly believed 
that she had received the grace of the stigmata before her 
death. She wrote nothing herself, but she narrated her visions 
to those about her as she received them, and these were later 
collected by Clement Brentano. Her visions concerning the 
Passion of Our Lord took place in the later years of her life and 
are really a series of extraordinary incidents. 

Now, we do not wish to have it understood that these narra¬ 
tions are of an absolutely true and precise character in all their 
details. Even pious and privileged souls like Catherine Emme¬ 
rich, though enriched by many special graces from God, never¬ 
theless have not the divine assistance in their revelations which 
the Prophets and Evangelists had. They are capable, on the con¬ 
trary, of forgetting at times what they saw, and of being subject 
to human weakness like all the rest of the world. It is quite 
possible that they at times err in their descriptions of the 
events they have seen in ecstasy. Nevertheless, these revela¬ 
tions are not to be entirely brushed aside as of no value. In fact 
the Church, though not approving of them officially, holds them 


2S6 


APPENDIX 


in great regard. The visions of St. Bridget and of Catherine 
Emmerich in regard to the Sacred Passion, therefore, while 
very far from partaking of the inspired character of Holy Scrip¬ 
ture, nevertheless may be read with great profit and real edifica¬ 
tion, both on account of the sanctity of these privileged souls, 
and on account of the sacredness of the mysteries which in 
some way they have been allowed to behold. 

Note 2 

The Day of Christ’s Death 

It is clearly indisputable that Christ died on the afternoon of 
a Friday, that during Saturday He reposed in the sepulchre, 
and that He arose the following morning, which was Sunday. 
These days have been clearly fixed by the Church from the very 
beginning, so that in the very first days of Christianity Friday 
was held as a day sacred to the commemoration of the death 
of Christ, and Sunday was a day of joy in which was commem¬ 
orated the glory of His Resurrection. 

The Jews observed the Sabbath as a festival day and during 
that day they were not permitted to do any servile work, nor 
even to prepare food. This custom was a prescription of the 
Mosaic law and was observed with great rigor. The food to be 
eaten on the Sabbath was prepared the day before, that is, on 
Friday, and for that reason the day was called the Parasceve, 
which means the preparation. 

It is perfectly clear from the Sacred Text and the testimony 
of the Evangelists that Christ died on Friday, but on what Fri¬ 
day and in what month? The answer to this question will be 
found in the two following notes. 

Note 3 

The death of Our Lord took place on the 25th of March, the 
day of the Annunciation, and therefore the anniversary of His 
conception. 

“It is the perpetual tradition of the Church,” writes Bene¬ 
dict XIV, “that Christ died on the 25th of March, that is, on 


APPENDIX 


287 


the octave of the calends of April.” Now, according to the 
Roman computation, the calends of April was the first of April, 
and therefore the 25th of March was the eighth day before the 
calends. 

Tertullian writes: “The Passion of Our Lord took place 
under Tiberius Caesar, the consuls of that time being Rubelius 
and Fusius, in the month of March at the time of the Passover, 
on the eighth day before the calends of April.” It must be re¬ 
membered that Tertullian was one of the most learned writers 
of his time and that he had seen with his own eyes the Acts of 
Pilate sent to the Emperor Tiberius recording the death of 
Christ. He had, moreover, consulted the archives of the Empire 
again and again on these and other similar matters, and had 
used the fruits of his research in his various letters to the Roman 
magistrates, to prove the truth of the Christian religion and the 
Divinity of Jesus Christ. As he was a contemporary of some of 
the disciples of the Apostles, he was constantly referring to the 
testimony of very early tradition to prove the truth of his as¬ 
sertions. His authority, therefore, on such matters is the very 
strongest. 

St. Augustine writes: “Christ, therefore, died at the time 
when the two Gemini [Rubelius and Fusius] were consuls on 
the 25th of March.” And again, in his tract on the Trinity, he 
says: “We have learned from the elders in the Church to be¬ 
lieve that Christ died upon the 25th of March, the day also of 
His conception.” 

Lactantius affirms the same thing and almost in precisely the 
same w^ords, so, also, St. John Chrysostom. 

As a confirmation of all this we have a monument found in 
the Campo Verano in the year 1551. This is a marble statue of 
the celebrated and very learned St. Hippolytus, who was mar¬ 
tyred at the beginning of the third century. This statue is now 
found in the Vatican library. Cut into the stone of the chair of 
the statue is the paschal canon of the year 222 and we read on 
this inscription: “Octavo kalendas Aprilis Passio Domini”; 
that is, 25th of March, the Passion of the Lord. 


288 


APPENDIX 


Moreover, the Roman Martyrology notes for the date, the 
25th of March, “in Jerusalem, the commemoration of the good 
thief who, having given testimony of Christ on the Cross, de¬ 
served to hear from Him: ‘This day thou shalt be with Me in 
Paradise.’” This is verified in other ancient Martyrologies, as 
can be seen in the work of the Bollandists. It is clear, therefore, 
that these Martyrologies concur in placing the death of the good 
thief on the 25th of March, and so implicitly declare that the 
death of Our Lord took place on that day. We hold, therefore, 
as certain that on the 25th of March Our Blessed Lord died 
upon the Cross. In fact, the contrary sentence sustained by 
Tostatus in the time of Eugenius IV was condemned as erro¬ 
neous. 

It is true that the Church does not celebrate the Pasch on 
that date but observes it on the Sunday following the Jewish 
Passover, but that was a custom established even in apostolic 
times for very grave and weighty reasons, as we shall now see. 

Note 4 

The death of Our Lord occurred on the day of the unleavened 
bread, the 15th Nisan, the solemnity of the Hebrew Passover. 

The Hebrews computed their months according to the phases 
of the moon. Every month began with a new moon and the full 
moon took place on the 15th of the month. This first month 
established by Moses was that in which the full moon came after 
the vernal equinox, that is, on the 21st of March, but as the 
changes of the moon were not coincident with the apparent 
changes of the sun it happened that at times the first month 
came earlier, at other times, later. This is what happens pre¬ 
cisely in establishing the date of Easter. 

The beginning of each month was announced by the priests 
with the sound of the trumpet and was reckoned as a festive day. 
The first month, Nisan, was also considered by the Jews to be 
more solemn than the other months, because during that month 
was the commemoration of their liberation from slavery in 
Egypt. It is well here to recall that the liberation of the Jewish 


APPENDIX 


289 


people from Egyptian slavery was a prophetic figure of the 
Redemption from the slavery of sin wrought by the Messias. 
The figure, therefore, was completely fulfilled by the death of 
Christ on the 15th Nisan, that is, the day of Passover of the 
Jewish people. This day, the 15th Nisan, was called the day of 
unleavened bread and also the Pasch. Josephus Flavius testi¬ 
fies to this very clearly, when he says: “In the feast of the 
solemnity of the unleavened bread which we call the Pasch”; 
and St. Luke (xxii, 1) says: “Now the feast of unleavened 
bread which is called the Pasch was at hand. ” It is, therefore, 
clear from the testimony of the Evangelist, as well as from that 
of the earliest sacred writers, that Christ, like all the people of 
the Jewish nation, celebrated on the 14th Nisan the preparation 
of the feast of the Passover prescribed by Moses. After the 
festival of preparation He established at the Last Supper the 
Blessed Eucharist. It is well to note that various writers differ 
in their explanations as to why Christ celebrated the Passover 
on the first day of the unleavened bread, but following the doc¬ 
trine of Benedict XIV, St. Thomas, and the Catechism of the 
Council of Trent, there is no need of confusion or difficulty in 
reconciling the various texts. The natural day, that is, begin¬ 
ning with the morning and ending with the evening of the 15th 
Nisan, was called the day of the Passover, but among the Jews, 
as among ourselves, the religious day was reckoned from the 
evening of the day before to the evening of the day itself. The 
fact that Christ ate the Passover on the evening of the 14th 
Nisan need in no way militate against the idea of His legal 
observance of the Pasch, since the meal took place within the 
period of time which constituted the day of the Passover 
reckoned in a liturgical way. Whatever apparent discrepancy 
appears on the surface from the different wording of the 
Evangelists, disappears when we understand the customs of the 
Hebrew people, and, it remains perfectly clear that Christ in¬ 
stituted the Eucharist on the 14th Nisan and died upon the 
Cross on the 15th Nisan, the solemn day of the Hebrew Pass¬ 


over. 


290 


APPENDIX 


The question may now be asked, why does not the Church of 
Christ celebrate Easter on the precise day of the month when 
Christ’s Resurrection took place instead of following the Hebrew 
custom, and celebrating it on the Sunday after the full moon of 
the spring equinox? Briefly the reason is this: 

The Hebrews celebrated their Passover at the time of the full 
moon after the vernal equinox (21st of March), because they 
recalled on that day their liberation from the slavery in 
Egypt. 

Now, the liberation of the Hebrew people from Egyptian 
slavery was the figure and the prediction of the liberation of the 
whole human race from the slavery of the Devil, accomplished 
by the works and deeds of Jesus Christ, the Messias. The 
Apostles, unwilling to separate the realization of the great 
prophecies from the predictions themselves, fixed the Christian 
celebration of the Pasch or Resurrection at the same time as the 
Hebrew celebration. There was this difference, however, that 
while the Hebrews celebrated their liberation on the 15th Nisan, 
the Apostles and their immediate successors fixed the time of 
the Christian Passover, or Easter, for the following Sunday. 

Early in the history of the Church, some of the churches of 
Asia Minor preferred to celebrate the Christian Pasch on the 
same date as the Hebrew Passover, and for some time there was 
a grave dispute between some of the Oriental Churches and 
Rome on this point. This question was finally settled at the 
Nicene Council; and therefore since the fourth century the 
Church has preserved the Roman custom and discipline with 
regard to the celebration of Easter. 

Note 5 

The Year of the Death of Our Lord, the Twenty-Ninth 
of the Christian Era and the Thirty-Third of His Age 

At first sight these dates would seem to be contradictory. As 
a matter of fact they are nothing of the sort. The popular opin¬ 
ion that the Christian era began exactly with the year of the 
birth of Christ and that, therefore, it coincides with the years of 


APPENDIX 


291 


His life, has been abandoned for some time by all the learned 
writers. The only dispute now is whether our era began four or 
five years previous to the birth of Christ. Most probably it was 
four years. 

In a few words we shall here show, first, that Jesus died in 
His thirty-third year; second, that the year of His death was 
the twenty-ninth year of our era, thus making the beginning of 
our era four years before the birth of Christ; third, we shall 
briefly explain how it came to pass that there is a discrepancy 
between the date of the birth of Christ and the first year of 
our era. 


A. Christ Died in His Thirty-Third Year 
This has been the constant tradition of the Church. Besides 
that, we have the testimony of the Evangelists themselves. St. 
Luke expressly says that when Jesus went to be baptized by St. 
John in the Jordan He was about thirty years old (St. Luke 
m, 23). We know, also, that according to the regulations of the 
Hebrew religious customs no one was allowed to teach publicly 
until he had arrived at the age of thirty. After these data re¬ 
corded by St. Luke, we find the Evangelists note three distinct 
Passovers celebrated by Our Blessed Lord, in three successive 
years and finally recording His death upon the third Passover. 
In fact, if we go into detail in this matter we can readily deduce 
that from the time of His conception, the 25th of March, until 
the time of His death, again the 25th of March, exactly thirty- 
three years had transpired. 

B. Christ Died in the Twenty-Ninth Year of Our Era 
Tertullian, St. Augustine, and Lactantius all affirm that the 
death of Christ took place under the consuls Gemini. This was 
the Roman method of computing dates, namely, by indication 
of the consuls of the time. We see this on innumerable monu¬ 
ments of early Rome preserved to this day. 

Now it is beyond doubt and admitted by all that the consu¬ 
lates of the two Gemini were in the first year of the two hundred 


292 APPENDIX 

and second Olympiad, which is precisely the twenty-ninth year 
of our era. 

We know, moreover, that Herod died in the month of March, 
three years before our era. Josephus Flavius gives positive 
testimony of this fact. Now, it is also clear, that if Herod died 
three years before our era began, Jesus must have been born 
at least about four years before that epoch. How otherwise 
could a sufficient time be given for such incidents as the adora¬ 
tion of the Magi, the presentation in the temple, the flight into 
Egypt and the slaughter of the innocents? It is clear, there¬ 
fore, that since Christ was born in the days of Herod the King, 
as the Evangelists write, He must have been born about four 
years before the beginning of our era. 

C. The Error with Regard to the Beginning of the 

Christian Era 

We know that up to the sixth century it was not the custom 
generally to compute the years from the birth of Our Lord. Dif¬ 
ferent nations and different places had their own methods of 
dating events. The Hebrews, for instance, had the custom at 
one time of dating their years from the creation of the world, 
but when they passed under the yoke of different conquerors — 
the Persians, the Greeks and the Romans — they adopted 
more or less the various calendars used by their conquerors. 

The Greeks made their calculations and their dates according 
to the Olympiad which began about seven hundred and seventy- 
six years before our own era. Each Olympiad contained four 
ordinary years, because every fourth year the great games of 
Greece took place. Besides this general method of Greek com¬ 
putation there were several others used in different parts of 
Greece at various times. 

Rome computed her dates from the foundation of the city, 
which, according to Varro, took place seven hundred and fifty- 
four years before the Christian era. Besides this general date 
there were dates marked by the terms of the various consuls; 
later still time was reckoned according to the reign of the differ¬ 
ent emperors. 


APPENDIX 


293 


It is uncertain when they computed the first day of their 
year. At different times and in different places the method 
varied. According to some, it was fixed at the time of the winter 
solstice; according to others, the vernal equinox. So it is clear 
that with all these different systems of calendar calculation, 
fixing any date was a very complicated thing. Therefore we are 
not surprised that the fixing of the date of any event in ancient 
chronology presents very grave difficulties. 

It was Dionysius Exiguus who, in the sixth century, introduced 
into Italy the system of computing the date of events from the 
year of the birth of Christ. Unfortunately, Dionysius, though 
diligent enough in his calculations, nevertheless made several 
serious errors, due, no doubt, to the fact that, living in the midst 
of the invasions of the barbarians, he had not at hand sufficient 
information to guide him precisely in his studies regarding Chro¬ 
nology. In the course of time Charlemagne introduced the Ital¬ 
ian system into France, and little by little, this method of com¬ 
putation from the supposed time of the birth of Christ spread 
throughout Christendom, just as it had been invented by Diony¬ 
sius. The error has never since been officially corrected. Natu¬ 
rally, at present, the matter of a difference of three or four years 
in so many centuries amounts practically to very little; never¬ 
theless it is interesting to know the facts. 

Note 6 

Incidents of the Crucifixion 

St. John narrates that it was the Jewish custom to break the 
limbs of the crucified, and thus to secure their death and burial 
on the same day as the crucifixion. The soldiers followed this 
custom with regard to the two thieves, but when they came to 
the Body of Jesus, seeing that He was already dead, they did not 
break His limbs. “But one of the soldiers opened His side with 
a lance and immediately there came out blood and water.” (St. 
John xix, 34.) In the meantime, Joseph of Arimathea had ob¬ 
tained permission from Pilate to take away the Body of Jesus, 
and as St. Matthew records, having taken the Body, he wrapped 


294 


APPENDIX 


it up in a white winding sheet and placed it in a new sepulchre 
which had been hewn out of the rock. (St. Matthew xxvn, 59- 
60.) The testimony of the Evangelist is in perfect accord with 
the Jewish custom. The bodies of those crucified were not al¬ 
lowed to remain on the cross during the Sabbath, but had to be 
taken down and buried, together with the instruments of their 
crucifixion. 

On the south side of the hill of Golgotha, between Calvary 
and the wall of Jerusalem, there is a grotto formed by the cut¬ 
ting away of the stone. In that were buried the bodies of the two 
thieves with their crosses, and also the Cross of Jesus. By 
special favor, Joseph of Arimathea was permitted by Pilate to 
bury the Body of Christ in his own tomb on the opposite side of 
Golgotha. The Jews closed up the sepulchre with a huge stone, 
and, having sealed it, placed a guard about it. They evidently 
had not forgotten the words of Christ foretelling His Resurrec¬ 
tion. These very soldiers were to give irrefutable testimony of 
Christ’s Resurrection. Overcome with terror at the sight of the 
risen Christ, in fear and trembling, they were the first to testify 
to the great miracle of the Resurrection, and their testimony 
naturally is all the stronger because they were sent there pre¬ 
cisely to guard against any conspiracy among the Apostles to 
take the Body away. It is perfectly clear that the Blessed Virgin, 
the Mother of Christ, the Apostles, and several hundred people 
who were numbered among the first Christians, and also, thou¬ 
sands, who at the preaching of the Apostles became followers 
of Christ, would not be likely to forget the locations of those 
scenes of the tragedy of Calvary, among them the sepulchre of 
Christ and the grotto where the Cross and the instruments of 
the Passion were placed. For the moment they had to face the 
fury of the Jews, and therefore they would not publicly expose 
themselves to the persecutions of the time by any public venera¬ 
tion of these sacred places and sacred objects. 

About forty years after the death of Christ, that is to say, the 
seventieth year of the Christian era, Jerusalem was besieged 
and utterly destroyed by the command of Titus. The Christians 


APPENDIX 


295 


on that occasion, mindful of the prophecy of Christ, abandoned 
the Holy City and retired in safety beyond the Jordan. After 
the destruction of the city, they came back to Jerusalem and 
found that though the rest of Jerusalem had been devastated 
the Cenacle on Sion remained practically intact. In the year 133 
of our era, a new and terrible revolution of the Hebrew people 
brought down upon them the awful vengeance of the Emperor 
Hadrian and this time, the Romans, to make further uprisings 
impossible, utterly destroyed whatever there was left of Jeru¬ 
salem. 

Abolishing even the name of the Holy City, they built upon 
the site a new city which they called after the Emperor, “Elia,” 
and which they peopled with soldiers and with strangers. 

By this time the holy places and the sepulchre of Christ were 
completely buried under an enormous mass of wreckage, the 
ruins of the city, and over the sites were planted gardens and 
groves. Above the hill of Calvary they erected the statue of 
Jupiter, while over the Holy Sepulchre w’as erected a statue to 
the goddess Venus. The Roman soldiery knew very well the site 
of the holy places and this burial of them under the tremendous 
masses of the ruins of the Holy City was intended to obliterate 
the very memory of them. The fact is, something of course they 
never could foresee, that by placing above Calvary the statue of 
Jove, and above the sepulchre the statue of Venus, they were 
really marking the site of the sacred places for future genera¬ 
tions. 

The Christians looked on helpless, but they and their bishops 
took note of what was happening, and as we learn from Eusebius 
they preserved the knowledge of the location of these holy spots 
with the greatest precision. Later when the mother of Emperor 
Constantine, St. Helena, came to Jerusalem, the bishop of the 
city could bring her straight to the spot where the holy sepul¬ 
chre was situated, and to the top of Calvary where Christ’s 
Cross had been erected. She simply gave orders to pull down 
the statues of Jove and Venus, and to excavate in the ruins, to 
find there the Holy Sepulchre of the Lord. 


296 


APPENDIX 


This was in the year 323 and 324 of our era. When finally the 
work 4if excavation w’as finished, St. Helena saw not only the 
sepulchre of Christ, but the grotto in which had been placed the 
three crosses. The title itself could not be found in that place, 
and therefore the doubt arose as to which was the real Cross of 
Christ. We have already described how the true Cross was 
finally revealed by a wonderful miracle, which restored to per¬ 
fect health a woman who had been almost at the point of death. 

The news of this discovery of the Cross of Christ and of 
the sacred places flashed like lightning throughout the whole 
empire. From all parts of the world, wherever the Christian 
faith had reached, came requests for portions of the Cross. Con¬ 
stantine, by public decree, prohibited the use of the Cross as 
an instrument of punishment and gave orders for the construc¬ 
tion of a great monument to be built above the sepulchre where 
the Body of Christ had been laid. 

All this we know from the testimony of St. Cyril of Jerusalem, 
who lived contemporaneously with these events, and later was 
bishop of the Holy City. We have besides a clear proof of all 
this in the words of Eusebius of Caesarea. 

A part of the Cross was enclosed in a reliquary of silver, to¬ 
gether with the title, and was placed by St. Helena in a special 
chapel of the Basilica of Constantine in Jerusalem. 

St. Sylvia of Aquitaine, on her return from a pilgrimage to the 
Holy Land about the year 388, gives a most interesting descrip¬ 
tion of the events and ceremonies which took place in Jerusalem 
during Holy Week of that time. The precious volume contain¬ 
ing this most interesting description was found in the library of 
Arezzo about the year 1887. 

“The faithful,” she says, “passed all day Thursday and Fri¬ 
day in prayers and hymns and in the reading of the sacred texts. 
In the early morning of Good Friday, led by their bishop, they 
walked from Gethsemane up to the great Basilica. They then 
dispersed for a few hours, many of them going up to Sion to 
pray before the column of the flagellation. The chair of the 
bishop was placed at the top of Golgotha, behind the place 


APPENDIX 


297 


which was occupied by the Cross of Christ. Before him was 
spread a great table covered with linen, and the deacons brought 
out and laid upon this table the Sacred Wood of the Cross and 
the title. These the bishop and the deacons held in their hands, 
and the people came to kiss the relics and venerate them. So 
the worshippers passed by, one by one, bowing low in the ven¬ 
eration of the Cross, touching it -with their foreheads, and 
showing it the deepest affection and veneration.” This de¬ 
scription reveals to us that even as far back as the fourth cen¬ 
tury the ceremony which we observe to-day on Good Friday 
was observed by the Christians. 

St. Sylvia goes on to narrate that afterwards, that is from 
midday until three o’clock in the afternoon, the people listened 
to the reading of the psalms and the lessons, and the various 
sacred writings which predicted or described the Passion of 
the Lord. 

It is interesting to note the testimony of Antoninus of Pia¬ 
cenza, who also left a description of his pilgrimage to the Holy 
Land about the year 570. Among other things, he says: “I saw 
with my own eyes, and held in my own hands, and kissed, the 
title which was placed above the head of Jesus, on which was 
written: ‘Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.’” 

About the year 614 the Persians invaded Jerusalem and took 
it by storm. The inhabitants of the city were put to death by 
thousands, and over three hundred monasteries and chapels 
•were destroyed, among them the Basilica of Calvary and the 
Holy Sepulchre. Not content, moreover, with this barbarous 
destruction of the holy places, the Persians took away with them 
the relics of the Passion and the Cross of Our Blessed Lord. 

A few years later the Emperor Heraclius, at the head of an 
army, advanced to meet the Persian invaders, and in three ter¬ 
rible battles he finally overwhelmed them and put them to 
flight. As a condition of peace he demanded the restoration to 
him of the relics of the Cross, and with these sacred relics in his 
hands, he entered Jerusalem in triumph. At once he began to 


298 


APPENDIX 


rebuild the sacred places. With solemn ceremony he restored 
the relics to the places where they were formerly enshrined. At 
a certain point, however, in the procession he was stopped and 
firmly held as if by some unseen hand. He tried to proceed, but 
could not, and he was filled with consternation, wondering why 
this happened. Then the patriarch turned to him and said: 
“See, your Majesty, how you are robed in precious garments 
which are not consonant with the humility of the Cross of 
Christ.” Heraclius understood at once. He laid aside his royal 
cloak and took off his crown. Wearing a simple garment, bare¬ 
footed, he again proceeded towards the Basilica. This time his 
passage was entirely uninterrupted and he entered the great 
church singing hymns and canticles to the Cross of Christ. 
Thus, he deposited once more in the place assigned to them the 
sacred relics. 

Scarcely was Jerusalem again risen from her ruins when from 
the south arose another terrible scourge. The Arabs, who had 
accepted the religion of Mohammed, marched forth to conquer 
all those w T ho did not accept the Mohammedan doctrine. In the 
year 637 they besieged and occupied Jerusalem under their 
leader, Omar. As soon as possible the relic of the Cross and the 
other precious relics of the Passion were transferred to Con¬ 
stantinople, and the hope of the Mohammedans to possess them 
was thwarted. 

To-day the title, a thorn from the crowm, and one of the nails, 
are all secure in the Church of the Holy Cross in Rome. The 
title bears the evident character of its authenticity, although 
the wood is quite parched, but one can distinguish very clearly 
even to-day the three inscriptions in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. 
The inscriptions are cut into the wood of the title and betray 
the haste in which the letters were made. It is guarded in a 
beautifully carved reliquary of gilded silver, and is visible from 
either side through an encasement of glass. It is certainly a 
most precious relic and one whose history has been traced from 
century to century. 






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